The Glass Coffin
by Boreal Peat
Summary: They finished healing Shepard's wounds, but due to the interference of the Shadow Broker, she meets Archangel a little earlier than Cerberus had intended, with some eye-opening consequences. Shepard/Garrus, AU
1. Snow White

Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated in any way, shape, or form with Mass Effect, Bioware, EA, or Microsoft. This is rated for maturity, which is a purposely vague term, but not nearly as vague as "graphic depictions".

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><p>This wasn't how this was supposed to go down.<p>

Garrus was supposed to meet with Sidonis to disrupt the supply chain some slave runners were keeping not far outside the apartments. He had been trying to pinpoint their main drop-and-pickups for weeks and scouring for details to work on when Sidonis came to him with a tip said came from a couple days of roving in the alleys by the VIP lounge. That the usual point had to be changed due to the outbreak of disease recently in one quadrent, being why it was getting so hard to find. He stayed out gathering information until he could make a reasonable guess as to where and when they should come and intercept.

That's, at least, what Sidonis _said_ he was doing for those days he was missing.

_Face it, Vakarian,_ Garrus thought bitterly with a voice that sounded suspiciously like Pallin's, _You're being too damn naïve. You put yourself and possibly your partners at risk for your negligence._ Maybe that was actually something Pallin said to him two or three years ago, and it didn't sink in then. He would kick himself soundly in the ass for this later. Right now, his legs were burning with the exertion, his chest ached, and he felt like he hadn't washed in days even as his morning shower couldn't have been more than five hours ago.

Garrus found himself in an ambush, and that took some thinking on his feet and a lot of luck just to get himself out of that predicament. He hasn't had much chance to stop and breathe since it happened, but he still tried to open a link to his team, and only got white noise for his efforts. The wireless signal he used was being jammed, which spoke of more tinkering than just even knowing where Archangel was going to appear. They knew what to block, and if they knew that, there's no telling what else they know about his team.

Spirits, he _had_ to get to them. He gained yardage quickly, but not as quickly as he would have liked, and he could feel the three merc groups _(All three! What the hell?) _closing in on his heels as he moved. When he got there, they'd have a hell of a time fighting their way back out, again. _If they're even still alive. _But, damnit, he couldn't run. There was no way he could turn their back on them, not when there was a _chance_.

He dodged into a storage unit that was almost certainly appropriated by pirates since it was nicer and looked made for a ship that most certainly hadn't been docked at Omega any time recently. This didn't really come to him until he entered it, and was immediately struck with the dichotomy of fresh, expensive equipment spattered with dried brown-red blood and bullet holes. Streaks marked the floor from where bodies had to have been dragged out, but otherwise it looked like whoever had obtained this storage hadn't had the chance to look through it.

This might just give him a bit of a lucky advantage; there looked to be unopened (and likely well-stocked) weapon lockers and various medical equipment. It would only be too bad he couldn't carry as much as he could find, since he didn't need to be weighed down and, as nice as it would be to have all of this for later operations, they'd be useless if he didn't get there until after his men were dead.

He allowed himself a moment to wind down from battle as he pulled away tarps and rooted though crates. Mostly supplies for the ship cargo this was meant for, obviously. Things that would find much use in the markets, though of very little use to someone who still had a long and hostile distance to cross alone. He found a small stock of dextro-amino protein bars and tore into one with his teeth, spitting out the wrapper without a thought as he continued searching.

The blood eventually stopped roaring in his ears and he could hear the silence of the room… that wasn't that silent, come to think. There was a quiet whine of something running in this room, and it didn't sound like the auxiliary lights at the top of the unit. No, this was coming from the back wall, from something large and oblong under a large piece of heavy canvas. His mandibles pressed tight against his face and he didn't even think about it when he moved over to it and wrenched the thick cloth away.

An occupied cryogenic pod. Some poor bastard was being transported with the cargo when it was taken, and would probably be sold into slavery as soon as the thieves came in to do inventory. Garrus worked the controls to open it before even thinking that the occupant might not have been sterilized, or might not even be in any condition to get out of the pod, let alone possibly run through the battlefield outside.

The clean smell of cryo blasted into his helmet's air passageways as cold, white steam. The feeling of it stabbed him right down into his heart when it cleared from his eyes.

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><p>Wilson smiled as best as he could manage at Miranda, though it was absolutely apparent to the both of them that he was fed up with her. They grated each other on every nerve and, damnit, he'd just be as happy to have this whole thing over with as he would anything. And, hell, it'd all be worth it just to know that her cool demeanor will soon devolve into hot and writhing anger and hate.<p>

Oh, yes, revenge would be _very_ sweet.

"Look, I agree with you that we should bring Commander Shepard to a more comfortable atmosphere than the facility when waking her up. Absolutely. But bringing the _Normandy_ here and putting her straight on it?" he said, taking care to keep his voice amicable.

Miranda seemed less than pleased. "The less time we spend on bringing her back to full working capacity, the better. We can't afford any time when human colonies are showing such an increase in disappearances. We need Shepard _now_."

"But we can't just assume everything will fall into place. You know as well as I do that she may have experienced psychological trauma from her death. She needs to be eased into the idea of being given a second change, into the idea of saving the galaxy again. I think it would be best to at least wake her up in a sedentary environment, to make the transition easier and to be able to determine any problems with her memory or psyche before we have her on deck." He smiled and added, "I think the Illusive Man would agree with me."

"He might. He has had a few preferences about this operation I haven't agreed with." Miranda pursed her lips. "If I agree to this, we at least bring her to the base we have the Normandy docked. There are rooms there, and I will _not_ have any more time wasted."

"Of course. I'll go ahead and prep a shuttle over. There are some extra supplies in cargo we need to bring over, anyway. You can start out before me and get things prepared for when we get there. Make sure that everything is quick and smooth. Does that sound good to you?"

"I guess that's acceptable." She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to another foot. "I can make sure personally about the situation we'll wake her up in and get a psychologist and a medical officer ready. It won't take more than a few hours once I get there, so I expect you to act quickly to take advantage of that."

He nodded submissively, inwardly biting back on the urge to tell her not to worry her pretty little head. Which, of course, she should worry, because this just made his job so much easier. He already felt bad that he'll miss when that pretty little head of hers flew off with rage.

And fly off with rage it did. He could hear it over the voice comm of the ship when it became apparent that he wasn't on course like he was supposed to be, and he cut the signal as to not let her see where he was going from there. Ah, well, the space around Omega wasn't exactly hospitable, but it was as good a drop as any. A ship not handing out identification while making drops and exchanges was nothing unusual there.

The Shadow Broker would be more than pleased, and Wilson would be more than rich. That scenario worked out for him _just fine_.

He got to the rendezvous as agreed and exchanged the proper codes with the corvette he found there. The link-up was usually difficult between two small ships such as these, but there are many corvettes in the Terminus Systems outfitted for pirating. They latched on right on one side of the portable unit and he met them in person there. This would be more than a pick-up; Wilson was to go with them, leaving the shuttle and the rest of it's cargo to drift in space. By the time Cerberus would pick up that piece, it would be too late to track them down.

However, no sooner had he and the asari agent exchanged greetings and a handshake did they feel an impact. The agent immediately knelt her head into her ear-piece and demanded details, but whether or not she got an answer was irrelevant. The people who knocked already let themselves in with flash-cut of hot laser on the side of the hold.

A formation of space-equipped batarians came in, the leader already removing his helmet as the others swung their barrels over the scene.

"Who the hell are you?" The asari agent started glowing with biotics, but it was obvious by the number of sights trained on her that it wasn't going to do any good.

Wilson felt his heart die in dread at the certainty of death in front of him. "They aren't Cerberus."

The batarian smiled.

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><p>"<em>Shepard."<em>

Garrus felt the pistol he had been switching from hand to hand during his search slip from his grasp and clatter (thankfully) harmlessly on the steel and aluminum floor. He leaned forward over her and placed a hand on her face, trying to determine if what he was seeing was real.

A million things ran through his head at once. Wasn't she dead? Her corpse was never found, but could this be her body? Her face was smooth from scars or wrinkles, let alone anything that would speak of death by space exposure or planet reentry. Was it found and prepared? Was this someone who changed their face to look like hers? Was this a clone? Was this a synthetic body?

...Was this person alive? He ran a finger down to find where he knew a human's pulse could be found to determine it. Yes, it was there and getting stronger. Her skin was warming up under his touch. He could even see her breathing gradually become less and less shallow.

His hand went under her neck and he tried to jostle her awake, but she wouldn't respond. He cursed, called out her name (assuming it was the right one), and even slapped her face around, but all he got was a three-fingered-hand-shape bloom red on her cheeks for the effort. This was, of course, the perfect time for the door behind him to slide open.

He rolled into cover just in time to avoid a bullet in his head, and a couple human Eclipse shuffled in with their guns out. His assault rifle was in his hands and shooting by reflex, and that saw one or two fall, but another tried to round the corner to him. Garrus hunched back and got in position to do an upward spray as soon as his ugly human mug got into view.

The merc did come, but instead of a face, he saw a small, red explosion. The body fell with a sickening thud, and there was the Shepard look-alike, the hand holding the pistol he'd drop still extended in his direction as she hooked a leg over her glass coffin.

"I'm just assuming that he was the one I had to shoot first from the bullet that lodged in the lid of the pod I woke up in," she said in a familiar voice that sent tremors down through his armor, "but that doesn't mean you're in the clear."

Garrus carefully placed his rifle on the floor and slowly rose, hands up where they could be seen. "I'm not here to harm you. I was trying to wake you up." He took a breath, trying to calm the nerves that were making his voice shake in the lower harmonics. "This place is dangerous."

The pistol lowered and her brows drew in and down. She looked for a moment about to say something, but instead drew nearer, looking intently at his helmet as if to determine something. "...Garrus?"

He gasped and just stopped short of throwing his arms around her, instead landing his hands on her shoulders and squeezing. He wasn't being fooled by the scent wafting into his helmet or by her appearance. This... this was Shepard, and, for the moment, it didn't matter how or why. All that mattered was that she was here, and that meant that everything was going to be okay. "I... we can talk later, and I'm sure we both have questions we want to ask. But for now we need to get out of here and back to base. I know the quickest route, and though it won't be safe, I think the two of us shouldn't have any problems."

She gave a nod and looked down at the body on the floor, pushing it over with a foot to its back. "So, we'll be spilling merc blood between here and there. You sure know how to show a girl a good time when she just wakes up."

"I try my best, Shepard."


	2. Rip van Winkle

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

Thank you all for your reviews, favorites, and watches! Wow, I'm really surprised that this story is already this well watched and liked... and quite flattered! I hope the story continues to live up to your expectations as it unfolds.

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><p>After seeing all weapons and clips at their disposal, it shouldn't have surprised Garrus that there was pre-fitted armor emblazoned with the N7 insignia in one of the lockers, obviously meant just for Shepard. But he was, and so was Shepard, because there was a question of "why is there enough equipment here to fully outfit a small armory just beside this cryogenic pod" that neither of them seemed to have the answer for. But, as luck would have it, even if Shepard didn't have any answers for why she was alive, set, and ready to go, she was, at least, quite ready to go. Not one second after they left the unit than did she march down the hall, weapon out, taking out who she could with the same ruthlessness and surgical accuracy he remembered from two years prior.<p>

She still switched from gun to gun with fluidity, still enjoyed flanking one side while Garrus took shots with his rifle. Her style was damned unpredictable if you didn't fight along side her, and the result was their tearing through block after block of mercs. The rhythm felt so _right_, Garrus didn't even realize that he missed it. Sure, he worked well with his team as Archangel for the past two years and, at some level, enjoyed and was satisfied with his work, but Shepard gave his battles symmetry.

"Come on!" he growled, his voice turning tinny though the speakers on his helmet, "Just over that wall. That's where my base is! Hopefully it's just a matter of getting there before home free."

Her armored footsteps clanged beside his as they ran for a vault. "Doesn't look like we're the first to get here."

"All the more reason to hustle." With that, he sprinted at full speed, slammed his hands on the top of the obstruction, and flew over it. His rifle was in his hands and shooting before his boots hit the floor. He winged one very surprised merc and felled another before he found cover.

"Archangel!" a krogan voice called over the gunfire, "That you? Where the hell have you been!"

"Long story; I brought support!"

"Support?"

And "support" was not to be outdone. Shepard lept over the bounds landed _on top_ of an already addled and turned-about merc, then shot out a couple more before she had time to shove off and shoot her landing pad (almost as an afterthought). The remaining five didn't last long; between Shepard, Garrus, and his team, bullets rained on intruders from all sides, and they fell in a circle they didn't realize they were forced into.

Shepard switched her clip, her face still as solid as stone as she dropped stance, and Garrus knelt to the nearest non-merc body. "Butler! Butler, talk to me!"

The human male groaned and grasped at Garrus's collar with great effort. "Boss... what..."

The krogan that had spoken earlier had not been in cover and jogged up, though a batarian and a human appeared and followed not long after. "I was about to take a charge out and go looking for you. Make sure you didn't abandon us, too,"the krogan rumbled.

"You should be glad you didn't,"Shepard answered easily for him as he worked to treat the wounds. "Until Garrus and I came through, the sweep through there would have caught the toughest rampager. I don't care who you are, you would have died."

The krogan snorted indignantly. "Cocky words to come from a human. And just who the hell are you?"

"We can exchange names and tea-times later." She started pulling out medi-gel and other medical supplies. "But right now, I think you have some wounded that need treatment. Garrus, how's your guy?"

The turian glanced up at her and turned his eyes back at his now red-soaked hands. "He'll make it, but we're going to need to drag him to a clinic sooner rather than later. And his leg looks too far gone for me to do anything for with just some medi-gel."

Shepard nodded, but instead of choosing the closest body to check out, the batarian grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her.

"You're going to take a look at Mierin."

"Not exactly friendly to strangers around here, are you?" Shepard hissed and pulled her arm away.

"Look, human. I don't give a shit who you are or why you're here, and the only reason I haven't popped your brain with a bullet is because you're working with Garrus. But I'm willing to be a little _nicer_ after you _shut up _and_ help Mierin_."

She gave him an extra glare for his measure before looking over Mierin. She was an asari, knocked out cold and sprawled out underneath the body of what was once a turian. Or, rather, what remained of him. The turian looked to have taken a grenade full-force. The asari was somewhat soot-blackened and blood-spattered, prompting that she was likely also a victim of the same blow as her friend, but at least looked intact. Shepard didn't have a great understanding of alien anatomy outside of what little Alliance training gave her (though Liara might have gladly given her a "_course"_ in it, if Shepard showed any interest). It came down to her checking to see if Mierin was still alive and if she had any head injuries.

The asari was still breathing (good), but she did have a bloodied wound just below her fringe (not so much). Her skull didn't appear fractured, but some form of concussion was certainly likely. "How long has she been out?"

"I don't know. Thirty... fourty-five minutes?"

Shepard frowned. For humans, that was a dangerous length of time, and meant often translated to the tune of l_ong coma_ all the way to _permanent vegetable state_. But she turned Mierin's head and carefully applied the medi-gel, then looked over to make sure there weren't any other serious wounds that needed immediate care. By the time she was finished, Garrus was already looking over other bodies, trying to determine who could and couldn't be helped.

"Melanis lost a lot of blood, but I sealed it up and she should be fine until we get her somewhere. But... Sensat, Weaver, Ripper, and Erash..." Garrus groaned and stood from the last body. "...I guess we'll need to dress their bodies. And contact their families."

"Ripper and Weaver were both orphaned widowers, Boss," the standing human said, "No families."

"Right." He looked over them again. "Of course you're right, Monteague. This was a hell of a hit, though. And more of those bastards are going to come knocking."

Shepard broke in with her usual commanding air. "We don't have time to pay respects for the dead. If they already attacked this base once, they're just going to keep sending people in one after the other. We'd be better spending our time getting supplies and wounded out of here."

"Are you saying we should just _abandon_ our brothers' corpses to be torn apart for the organ markets?" Monteague said with bald offense. "You think a stranger like you is just going to come in here when we were torn apart and throw orders like that at us?"

Garrus moved up and between them. "Back off, Monty. Shepard's no stranger."

"Your living is more important than your dead," Shepard continued as if Garrus didn't step himself in, "I'm not going to pretend to know what's going on, but I do know this: more than half of your force has gone to casualties, and there's nothing you can gain from trying to hold this position. It's none of my business if you want to die, but I'm not about to let myself and Garrus get killed to protect a bunch of corpses."

"She's right," the batarian hissed as if admitting it hurt, "We have four dead we can do nothing about and three injured we can't help while we're here."

"All three merc groups seem to be on us, too," Garrus growled, "They have the resources here. We don't. I suggest we take as little time as possible getting ready to leave. I had Erash set up a little _Last Resort_ bomb for me in the apartment. We can set it off as we leave."

Shepard gave a nod. "I could go ahead with the krogan at the vanguard. Make sure to keep the way we came clear as to not give them time to set up. The rest of you can pull the wounded up behind and take turns with suppressive fire. And I suggest we do this as soon as possible."

"Right." Garrus looked over to the batarian and human. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get them prepped and into position while I arm the bomb."

They dispersed without a word to do as they were ordered, and Garrus started up the stairs to his apartment, sparing just a glance back at Shepard as she blazed out ahead with Krul.

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><p>"Holy shit..." Joker swore aloud with the first words that could come to him, speaking the words with quiet and awed reverence. "I mean... <em>holy shit<em>."

Dr. Chakwas's voice was similarly subdued. "It certainly is astounding what Cerberus is capable of."

"Well, yeah, and I knew they were dumping a lot of money into something, but... but this...!" He gazed, wide-eyed, at the _Normandy SR-2 _as she suspended in the lit hanger, his hand pressing on the thin glass that separated them. "To think that they were doing something like this... I mean... shit! And I'm piloting this?"

"It's been a while since I've seen you at a loss for words, Jeff," Chakwas mused, "Though this is very nostalgic. It almost feels like it will be the same as two years ago in that ship."

"Yeah..." He couldn't turn away from the ship. It was as if it was the most beautiful thing in the galaxy, and it'd just whisk into oblivion again, never to be seen, if he looked away. "She's bigger, but she's still my girl. I can tell if from here. All we would need is Shepard, and then we could go right back to hunting Reapers and disobeying lawful orders." His voice dropped a little "Too bad that wont happen any time soon."

"Actually," a woman's voice called from behind, "picking up the commander will be the mission for the maiden voyage."

They turned as Miranda approached, arrow-straight posture and heels clicking coldly on the floor. She stopped a short distance and settled her voluptuous frame in a model-like curve. Joker held back the urge to give a low whistle and opted to smile with a quip.

"Sure, right. And I suppose you just rebuilt her like you did the Normandy."

"We did, exactly."

Joker's smart-ass grin fell. "Woah, hold on. What?"

"Do you mean to say the commander... is alive?" Chakwas asked.

"That's right." Miranda shifted her weight from one hip to the other, showing how listless she was. "We obtained her body and used the resources to bring her back to life. That's why the operation of this cell was called the _'Lazarus Project'_; reviving Shepard was the main priority, not just the _Normandy_. She is humanity's only hope against the Reapers. She did everything _right_, and the Illusive Man recognizes that even if the Alliance or the Council wont."

"But she got spaced!" Joker broke in, "I saw it with my own two eyes! She got spaced and probably caught up in the gravity well of Alchera! There's no way she'd be alive after that... or even a presentable corpse."

"Two years and four billion credits worth of work and resources say otherwise," she responded dryly. "Trust me, I was the one in charge of rebuilding her, and much of the process isn't so different from what we managed to do for your legs."

Joker's mouth snapped shut and his eyes turned glassy. Chakwas spoke instead. "How many cybernetic upgrades were necessary for this? I want to take a look at her as soon as possible."

"Physically, she should be fully healed and ready to go. Mentally, we observed no unusual brain-wave patterns, but psychological health is what our yeoman was brought on board for. It's just a matter of getting to her and diagnosing if anything went awry." A sour look came on her face. "I'll leave you to prepare, but the ship is set to leave at oh-nine-hundred zulu, and as executive officer and acting commander, I expect everyone to be ready for departure. Understood?"

"Of course," said Chakwas.

"Good. I need to get to work informing other crew. You're dismissed." She didn't even stay to see the response, a look of cold fury seizing up her features. The two were left in a long silence before Joker could respond.

The response was whirling around as best as his brittle legs could take and throwing his arms around the doctor in a strong hug. "She's alive! I don't know how they did it, but Shepard's back!" He barked a laugh and gave a strong sniff in attempt to keep any tears at bay. "I should have fucking known even death couldn't take her!"

She carefully returned the embrace and clenched her eyes closed, her smile watery and her voice unsteady. "The miracles of our age..."

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><p>"<em>Move! Move! Move!"<em> Shepard pounded down from her position, then turning to lay down assault with Garrus as the others took the wounded to safety. They laid down fire until they were all in, then retreated with guns blazing until they hit behind the door and they swished closed with a light from the batarian's omni-tool.

"Status, Vortash," Garrus turned to the batarian.

"I threw up a patch I got for a prison-grade lock on that door's security software. Between that and the fact the door itself is reinforced Prothean-stuff, it should take them hours to get through. There are no doors in this shaft until we surface near Afterlife, and I've just bought us plenty of time to get there. We should be clear."

"_Impressive_. There's no way they can organize anything this quick that Aria won't smash just for being too close to her doorstep." Garrus took a look at Shepard. "How are you holding up? I saw you take a few hits earlier while covering Monty's fumble."

Shepard almost looked surprised that he noticed, then looked down at her leg. "Seems fine, now. I guess this suit has a damn good medical upgrade on it. I hardly feel a thing."

Garrus's mandibles flattened in thought. Automatic medi-gel application had become fairly standard in armor for the past year or so, but no matter how good the armor, he hadn't yet seen anyone take the hits she had and come from it feeling nothing so quickly without further treatment. That wasn't a krogan, anyway. "Are you sure? We still have medi-gel if you think it would help."

"No, really. I'm fine. The bullets even extracted before it closed up."

He blinked and reared his head back, shocked. Either she expected him to believe an outrageous lie or her armor was capable of doing something that was almost impossible.

Or maybe she was part krogan. Krul slapped her back and roared in laughter, which gave evidence to that hypothesis. Vortash shook his head and turned back to his omni-tool. "Best clinic I could think of is Mordin's, but when I tried to do a contact, I got an auto-message saying something about a plague outbreak in that area along with a rambling 'thank you for your time.'" He huffed. "Fucking nut."

"You call all salarians nuts," Monteague groaned as he lugged Mierin.

"Sure, but even Erash thought Mordin was whacko, and Erash's last resort that we just set off seems to have taken out _the entire Kima District. _We're fucking lucky to be alive, after that, by the way. Just thought I should mention that part."

"Knowing Erash, he probably factored in just enough time for us to escape if necessary," said Garrus, trudging ever forward. His three men grunted agreement, and Shepard marched up along side him.

She kept her voice low. "I know now isn't a good time to talk, but I've been in the dark since I woke up in that pod and too busy shooting things to ask questions."

"I'll answer every single question you might have, no matter how trivial or embarrassing the answer, Shepard. It's the least I could do to thank you for saving my men and cleaning this mess I made. But, please, let me ask just one question first."

"Sure." That same confidence. _That same damn confidence._

He turned to see her face, knowing that his mandibles were fluttering torturedly and his facial plates were all contorted. "Why... in the past two years... Why not say anything? Why let us think you were dead?"

Her calm countenance faded into a strange, mystified expression. "What do you mean? Two years? Dead? _What the hell happened, Garrus?_"

Garrus clenched his hands in his gloves, feeling suddenly angry and hurt. But he couldn't throw this at Shepard, not after all she had done. "I thought you died two years ago, Shepard. Why keep it a secret?"

"Garrus, I... what year is it?"

"What?"

"_What year_ is _this year?_"

"Twenty-one eighty-five. But—"

"_Fuck._"

Shepard stopped her tracks in the middle of the dark corridor. Garrus looked at her quizzically, confused as to her intensely troubled look of concentration. "Shepard?"

"Garrus... the last thing I remember was the _Normandy_. You had disembarked at the Citadel. That strange cruiser attacked... and Joker..." She inhaled what he recognized as a calming breath. "There was a leak in my suit and..." Her voice trailed off and she looked up helplessly. This was enough time for his men to gain up on them, and they dragged past her, watching the exchange between Garrus and Shepard with open curiosity.

Shepard never looked so vulnerable to him before. Her eyes were hauntingly lost, which made so little sense in Garrus' reality that their earnestness wounded him.

"_What happened?_" Her voice held way too much dread for him to be able to take. He stepped forward and tentatively smoothed a hand down her armored shoulder. He offhandedly noticed the bullet holes and lack of blood he found there.

"I tell you everything I can," he promised softly.


	3. Red Queen

Disclaimer: One.

Wow, I guess the support you guys have given me so far has driven me to write even quicker than I usually can (and a little help from the long holiday weekend). Thank you so much! And thank you for pointing out errors when I've made them. I really hope I can continue writing chapters like this for you.

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><p>Garrus rumbled in an annoyed manner and leaned back in his seat, which felt far too small for his size. Vortash took the seat closest to Mierin, watching over her carefully, and Krul had exactly zero patience with sitting around at a clinic, so he ran off with Shepard to talk to Aria. Which left him alone and sitting across Monteague, who was having about as much conversation with him at the moment as Krul had patience.<p>

Actually, he seemed quite content with just trying to stare Garrus down. The turian eventually sighed and shook his head. "Just go ahead and say it, Monteague."

"I don't like her."

"_Thank you. _Now, that we got that little bit of obviousness out of the way—"

"Why do you defer to her like that? Is she related to that same Shepard you talked so much about? The commander you served under when saving the Citadel?"

"She _is_ my commander. Look, before you say anything, her official death was Spectre business." It was an easy lie; after all, it was "Spectre business" she was doing at the time it happened. "I didn't know she was alive. Nobody knew."

Instead of continuing to look indignant like Garrus expected, because Monteague was always a stubborn man, the human's shoulders shifted backwards and he seemed to be visually reconsidering his position. "Jesus, Garrus, I..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just thought she was a bitch who liked pushing her weight around and you were letting her. I didn't... Damn, are you okay?"

Garrus started laughing. "You're talking like she was beating me in the back room before she left."

"Well, you guys were in there a while. _Who knows_ what you were doing." Monty laughed and shook his head. "But, I'm serious. You always spoke of Shepard highly. It was pretty obvious to everybody that you... _you know..._"

"No, I don't."

"...Wanted to put her heels to Jesus and storm the trenches?"

"Wow," Garrus blinked and reached up to his visor to check over it. "You should hear how my translator tried to take on that metaphor."

"So, you admit it?"

"What? No, I..." The turian shook his head. "The commander was dead as far as I knew. Do you really think I would fantasize about my _dead human commander_ for two years?"

"You really don't know yourself, do you." His mouth broke out in a full-fledged grin and he reached for the bottled water he was given. He opened it and took a drink, despite the increasingly hostile eyes Garrus was giving him.

"You're as bad as Butler."

"Hey hey _hey!_ Don't compare me to a gossipy married man!"

Vortash groaned and squeezed his four eyes shut, cradling his head in a hand. "I'll be glad when we get this whole thing behind us," his deep voice hissed, "Get a drink, pour some shots on the floor, and be done with it."

Monteague looked over at him, "nursing" his water as he did. "Not thinking of quitting, are ya?"

"Hell no!" he growled, "After what those bastards did, I'm going to wipe them out personally if I have to!" He shook a purple fist and then rested it on Mierin's arm, peering down at her. "But... I don't look forward to when she wakes up. She might be more than twice my age, but she's still a maiden. I don't think she's used to the idea of losing someone, yet."

The door swept open and the medic, an addled-looking asari who always somehow looked thin and tired, strolled out with her arm looped around a turian. The turian growled her disapproval. "I said I'm fine to walk alone!"

"You have still lost a lot of blood," the asari insisted, "It is best if you allow those around to give you support for a few hours." She led her to a seat and gave a slight bow with her head. "I suggest you ask them to get you something nutritious. I would supply you with some juice, but I am, unfortunately, out of dextro-compatible foodstuffs."

Garrus allowed himself to smile. "Good to see you awake, Melanis. We were worried."

Melanis snorted, her mandibles fluttering with annoyance. "I can't believe I let them take me down like that." She looked over at Mierin, then swept her eyes over everyone in the room. "Where's Krul? And Sensat? And Ripper and Weaver and Erash?"

"Krul is running errands with a ghost for us," Monteague answered sourly, "The others are just ghosts."

"You mean... shit." She cast her eyes down and her features stiffened.

"It's not your fault," Garrus said, "You weren't the one who dropped the ball."

"Your human friend has wounds I cannot treat, I am sorry to say." The asari pursed her lips pensively. "His leg is irreparable, and I do not have the equipment in my facility to build new prosthetics."

"What about Mierin?" Vortash rose. "You haven't even looked at her, yet!"

"Calm down," Garrus ordered, "No need to get in the nice doctor's face about it."

"I do not need to look over her," the asari doctor said, a little bit of a smile curling her lips, "I can tell her wounds have been treated; she is breathing normally and merely in need of rest. May I recommend you obtain food for both her and your turian companion?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Garrus said, and pulled up his omni-tool, "Did you find a secure signal and share it with Shepard before she left, Vortash?"

"Sure." The batarians demeanor seemed sour. "It's all done and should have synced up with everybody here."

* * *

><p>Shepard didn't let herself be intimidated by Aria, but she had to admit to being shaken. There was a hell of a lot going on that she sure as hell didn't realize or understand... even with Garrus's help. She fell out of the galaxy for two years and the galaxy moved on without her. There were things here she was going to need to catch up with. She needed more information than what Aria was willing to give away.<p>

But there was one bit of information she gave for free that really surprised Shepard: Aria knew who she was, and she was satisfied well enough that she wasn't some sort of impostor (which meant the asari matriarch had more faith in this than Shepard herself did). Maybe Aria knew something... and maybe whatever she knew included what Shepard _was_.

God, she still wasn't sure what to make of that. She was supposed to be two years dead, but she wasn't, and, for all she knew, this could just be a clone body or andriod that only _thinks_ it's Shepard, built for purposes as-of-yet unknown. But, this Aria, this boss-CEO-queen of Omega, seems to have confidence that she was Shepard, and Garrus... Garrus seemed to agree. She would have to thank her lucky stars that magnificent turian bastard was the one to wake her up.

As soon as she saw some stars. As soon as she got off _Omega_.

The merc bands were still scrambling to get a foothold on how to take out "Archangel", from what she said, and at least Aria didn't seem to know Shepard's intentions: her first assumption was that Shepard must have wanted him dead, too. Shit, from the sound of it, even if Garrus personally took out every single gang leader on Omega after his plated hide, he'd never get the heat off of him. Damn fool is too idealistic for his own good.

Shepard kept changing the subject well enough to mix up what her intel needs might be. Might as well ask about something that's been bugging her ever since she saw a familiar symbol on her shoulder sleeve. "Has there been any Cerberus activity?"

Aria's eyes lit up in mirth at the question, as if some element was an amusing change from expectation. "Not exactly. Cerberus has had the good sense to stay away from Omega... for the most part." Her a grin pulled a little wider. "They tend to only deal in matters here when necessary. I might tell you that I expect to see their involvement a little more in the near future, but I might neglect to mention how I might know that or why I would even care." She leaned back again on her couch. "For now let's say... Omega doesn't care, but I'm watching with... curiosity."

Shepard filed that away. "What can you tell me about a turian named Lantar Sidonis?"

"Sidonis was one of Archangel's merry men, until recently. He left about a day ago. No idea where he ran to, and I'm sure he wants to keep it that way. The mercs got to him earlier this week after Tarak put a few clues to his identity together. That's how they took out half of Archangel's team earlier today."

Shepard wrapped up their conversation quickly and stepped down from the "throne room", giving a noted glare at Anto for his earlier pissy attitude. He looked indignantly cowed and sniffed, all four eyes crinkling at her, but said nothing. She turned away and marched towards Grundan Krul.

"You took a long time talking, Shepard," the krogan grumbled with distate. Shepard merely shrugged.

"Faster than running all over the place." She swept a hand over her omni-tool to activate the audio link-up with Garrus. They never went over code names or aliases, so she opted to just leave identifying language out of the conversation. "Calling in."

Garrus's voice came through. _"Impressive timing, as always. What'd you find?"_

"A few things you'll like to hear about, and a whole bunch of things you won't like. I went ahead to ask about our doctor your men seemed to prefer. He's quite busy with a plague that goes across species."

"_Lovely. I guess we can mark him out, then. Too bad; we have a guy here that needs a leg."_

"The human, right? Humans are about the only race it doesn't effect. I can go in and drop him off there. The doctor might be busy, but I'd like to talk to him, anyway. See if he could determine anything about my predicament."

"_I'm not sure if I like the idea of you going into a quarantine-zone alone."_

"Are you going to stop me?"

"_We'll talk about that later. While you're out, could you get some provisions?"_

"Sure. I'll do that now and come straight in. Call out."

* * *

><p>"<em>Call out."<em>

Garrus took a breath with that phrase and knelt back to calm down. She's already doing things on her own. Not surprising; she is Shepard, after all. She was like an object constantly in motion, when she wasn't... _whatever_ she was for two years. Still, he didn't like it. Not when he saw Shepard so vulnerable. She shouldn't have to wake up from a deadly situation just to be thrown into another one.

He told her everything, just like he promised. About how the attack was reported on the Citadel, about the disaster of a funeral that ended with Joker screaming on the top of his lungs _"It wasn't the geth that killed them! Something else in the Terminus Systems killed Shepard and you're just glossing the whole damn thing over!"_ About how Anderson fought to keep his face stoic as he saluted the coffins. About how Liara wasn't there to cry at all, and no one knew why.

He told her how he got fed up with Spectre training, finally. How he roamed the Terminus Systems himself, searching for her killers because _damned if he was going to let the galaxy die like this_. About how he ended up at Omega, and how he couldn't just live in Omega while it went along like it did. About how his men gathered, one by one, to his side.

Shepard looked uncomfortable to hear it all, but every time he tried to stop, she'd prod him to continue, or ask questions that had answers worse than what he was trying to avoid. She asked about what happened during the year. Asked about the crew that lived and the crew that died. Asked about the remains of the Normandy as readily as she asked about advancements in technology these past two years. She asked him what his next course of action was, and, Spirits, he didn't have an answer for that.

He wasn't sure who the conversation was worse on. Her face looked stony through the whole thing, but instead of looking impassive as it normally did for her, it looked clenched and tense. And frozen. She was hunched on the chair she sat and looking up at him with eyes that didn't say anything. Terrifying, like one of those gargoyles he'd seen in pictures of ancient human architecture, and somehow just as insignificant as the statue was to the building it sat upon. It made telling her how the universe kept going without her for two years harder than telling her about deaths and funerals. The details of how life continued made her hunched, frozen form look that much more diminutive.

It wasn't fair. Shepard's death tore him apart, but the galaxy refused to care, and wouldn't until the Reapers finally came to do the same to them.

A light moan came from the corner, and his eyes shot over to Mierin, who was finally coming to. She rose to a sitting position and blinked, looking at everyone in the room. "What happened? The attack..."

Vortash approached her side and tried to coax her back into reclining. "You need to rest, Aunt Mierin."

She looked at her batarian nephew, aghast. "Vortash... Where is..." She swallowed. "Where is Sensat?"

Vortash chewed unhappily at his needle-like teeth.

"_Where is he?"_

"He protected your body from a grenade blast with his own. He gave his life for yours. I'm sorry."

Her wide eyes stayed open, trying to not believe, but she couldn't. Her hands reached for her nephew's shoulders and she leaned forward to sob in his chest. He rubbed her back consolingly and let her cry.

"I thought I had longer... I know he couldn't stay but... _we were supposed to have more time _than... than _this_... oh... oh, Goddess..."

Garrus felt something touch his hand and he jerked away by impulse. He glanced over and saw Melanis's hand was out, seeking his, and he instantly felt like a heel. He crossed his arms and kept his eyes glued on the exchange in front of him, feeling the turian woman beside him shift uneasily to do the same. She was seeking comfort; it wasn't fair that anyone should deny that of her. Least of all him.

Melanis would bring this up, later. He knew this, and he did not look forward to it.

"I-I must look like a weak fool, blubbering like a child at my age," Mierin let out brokenly.

Vortash's low voice was unusually soft. "You're still young for an asari."

She made a snort of laughter in the tears. "I'm twice your age and you're already older than Father was when he died."

"Can't say I know anything about Grandfather," he countered, "He died before I was born."

She laughed again, still shaking, still sniffing between every other breath.

Monteague looked miserably up to Garrus from where he was sitting. "So... what shall we do next?"

Garrus ran his gloved hand over his armor, and glanced down at the clock on his omni-tool. He woke up only twelve hours ago to the message that came in to fuck with his entire life. Only seven hours ago, he opened a glass coffin to make sure his life was that much more of a whirlwind.

"We're not going to let ourselves get bored, that's for sure," he started, then made eye contact with each of them in turn. "We're going to recoup as best we can, then we're going to do one last strike on those bastards. Garm, Jaroth, Tarak... we'll fuck them up and leave them hanging to dry one at a time." He let his arms fall to his sides, but his posture stayed strong and straight. "Then, I'll go take care of Sidonis, _personally_. Let him know he can't just kill four of his comrades like this and get away with it."

"Then what?" Monteague asked, "Even if we take those guys out, we can't exactly eradicate every merc from Omega."

_And Shepard won't rest while the Reapers are out there, _Garrus added silently, and he knew in his heart that he would never let her go alone.

"We'll just have to wait and see 'then what.'"

* * *

><p>Joker might have felt more at home than he ever had in the past two years, but it still wasn't... exactly how he pictured it. And as nice as leather seats were, they couldn't take away the bite of the officer on command being a... well...<p>

"I'll be glad to pick up the commander just to get rid of Miranda always getting on my back," he grumbled aloud, "Rather have a rutheless _bitch_ than _that_ pushy ice-queen any day."

Blue lit up at his side and flickered before he had a chance to groan. "That is highly inflammatory language about our commanding officers, Mr. Moreau."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm an inflammatory person," he bit back. "Just don't tell her I said any of that. I have a feeling I'll feel hellish wrath if I do."

"As you wish."

He turned slightly towards the sphere. "And _maybe_ I have a right to be angry about this. What sort of operation spends as much money and time as they did on reanimating someone and yet not be able to keep that person they bothered to bring back to life from being kidnapped right out from under their noses?"

"Shepard's body has a habit of switching hands," a different voice came up, settling behind his shoulder. "You should've seen what we had to go through to get her corpse in the first place. It's no surprise that she's still in high demand."

Joker moved to swivel his seat around, just as EDI blinked out of existence again. _Great, _he thought, _Mr. Perfect Abs came to check up on me._ "That should just make the need to keep her guarded while transporting her that much more important, right? Hell, maybe you could have, I don't know, woken her up before transporting her? That way she could fight back?" He frowned and added, "Or maybe put a homing device on her. You added a million other things to her body, right?"

"Miranda originally was going to," Jacob said, "but the signal would have come from a control chip in her brain, and the Illusive Man nixed that idea. Can't say I blame either of them; Miranda put a lot of time in rebuilding Shepard and wants to protect that investment, but the Illusive Man spent this money to get _Shepard_. Not just something that looks like her."

"I guess if it's either not knowing where Shepard was or having a robot wearing Shepard's skin, I wouldn't lose any sleep with the choice. But _you_ guys screwed up transporting her, and now _I'm_ up here, scanning with a naggy AI for her. Then we won't even have time for beer and cake before we have to get right back to work. Can't say that's exactly fair for her."

"You're worried. I get that."

"Look, I know it's going to be fine. If someone woke her up, she'll just go right back to shooting enemies in the face like two years didn't happen, and she's not exactly hard to wake up. But, she's alone out there..." He chewed on his lip a little and turned towards his controls. "I mean, she _died_ alone, you know? Even though she can be a renegade hard-ass, she always had a team at her back. That's what she was."

"And we'll make sure she'll have a team, again."

Joker was silent for a long moment. "You know, for a guy who knows how to kill someone a hundred ways without his hands, you are _way_ too nice."

That brought laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Lights and sounds flared from Joker's console. His hands started flying, "Hey, I think I got something!"

Jacob approached one side as EDI reappeared at the other. "What'd you find?"

"I am picking up verification," EDI's cool voice intoned, "We are now approaching the commandeered Cerberus vessel."

A schematics popped up in front of Joker. "That sure looks like the shuttle we're supposed to be keeping an eye out for. But there's no cargo unit attached."

"I'll call up Miranda," Jacob said.

EDI flickered. "I have already contacted Operative Lawson about the shuttle. She will be on the bridge momentarily."


	4. Rumplestiltskin

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

Thank you all for your support, reads, reviews, and feedback as always! It's really awesome getting to hear all of you and get pinged with notifications of the faving/watching. Garrus's team is getting hard for some of my readers to keep track of; this was something I was afraid of happening because what I essentially have here is a list of about six OCs that just happen to have canon names. I don't want to dwell on them individually and leave the main plot focus to suffer for it, so I can only hope that I can make their characters slowly more evident on their own as the story progresses.

* * *

><p>The people inside the stolen shuttle were not pirates. If they were, they would have installed weapons to fire or would have simply run as soon as they saw the <em>Normandy's<em> approach. They would have, at least, known better than to just try to out maneuver them. The shuttle wasn't equipped for really anything useful except moving from point A to point B. Jacob and Miranda boarded it easily.

However, even if the occupants weren't pirates, they certainly had to be criminals in any place other than the Terminus Systems. Every spare bit of space within had some sort of illegal drug, illegal weapon, or other sort of compromising contraband, but not really enough of any specific thing to show them as runners.

Two were salarians, one was human, one was a volus, and all of them were shocked into a quivering silence when they saw the two biotics march in, guns out and dark energy humming around them as they approached. Miranda had her SMG in one face with an easy stride, and the others seemed to have absolutely no wish to deal with Jacob's shotgun as it's barrel swept over the range. Even if they merely surrendered to get the sights off of them, the humans in Cerberus uniforms filing behind with their own equipment squelched any thoughts of slipping near a pistol undetected.

"Sorry to interrupt your vacation," Miranda said sarcastically, "but I'm in a bit of a rush to find someone."

"Wh-what makes you think we know about where they are?" the one on the other side of her Shuriken sputtered.

"You might. You might not. All I know is _you_ are in one of _our_ ships, and that person was in the cargo attached to this ship."

"We didn't take this ship!" another blurted, "We bought it from a dealer on Omega! His name is…"

"_Shut up!_" the first hissed.

Miranda smiled. "I should have known you came from Omega. The stench is all over you." She retracted her gun, but Jacob kept his up and out, making sure they knew who was on the heavy, here. "But I think your friend was going the right route," she continued, "Maybe you should let him finish what he was saying."

"Harrot. Of Harrot's Emporium in the marketplace," came the reply, "The guy is elcor, easy to spot. Mostly deals in salvage."

"Now, that wasn't so hard was it?" Miranda kept her grin a little wider and turned, strutting away with a confident sway.

"Wait! We told you what you wanted to know, right? Are you going to let us go?"

She stopped a moment, but didn't turn. "I wouldn't get ahead of ourselves if I were you."

* * *

><p>"I had to feed your krogan before getting supplies," came Shepard's voice as she returned, "I hope you're okay with the damage he did to your creds."<p>

Despite that, Garrus found himself grinning happily at her return. She tossed a bag at him, one that a glance inside told him was meant for him and Melanis, before she settled near the others with the rest. Monteague, knowing better this time, made a marked effort to appear respectful, if not conciliatory as she passed them food.

Garrus pulled out a package that smelled the most appetizing at the moment and handed the rest of the bag to Melanis. "So… what was it you learned?"

Shepard ripped off the plastic from around a fork and spared him a glance. "Good news is that the merc groups are still scrambling after you. They must have been relying on the assumption your team would get killed and they'd get to pin you down." She took out a white box and opened it, immediately digging into it without examination. "I guess they didn't expect you to be able to cut back in and press out as fast as you did."

"What they didn't expect was that I would wake up _Commander Shepard_ from the dead," Garrus hit right back.

"Commander Shepard?" Mierin stared aghast at the human woman near her. "You… Garrus said you were _dead_."

Shepard ignored her and any other gasps and stares. "They are still on the offensive, though, and they aren't letting up any time soon. I don't know what you've endured on Omega up to this point, but I have a feeling that, from here on out, what was is going to look easy in comparison." She stabbed and pulled up a strange yellow helix covered in sauce from her food, promptly eating it. "As for Sidonis… I'm sorry to say, your suspicions about him are right. The merc's pulled information out of him, and he left yesterday. Long gone to wherever he went. "

"Damnit." Garrus shook his head. "I'm not surprised, though. I'm prepared to hunt him town as soon as we take care of things here."

"That's something else I wanted to ask you about." She took a moment to spear a few more of those curls from her meal. "I highly doubt you'll clean up Omega with your efforts, _Archangel_, even if you have years to do it. And what you accomplished so far nearly got destroyed, already, taking your life in the process."

Garrus felt himself bristle. "What are you trying to say?"

Her eyes turned serious and she put down the fork. "I'm going to take a ship and get off this rock. To get back to the Alliance, and to fight the Reapers." She shifted her seat towards him. "I want you to come with me when that happens."

"What the _fuck_ are you on about?" Melanis roared and approached Shepard's sitting form. "You just waltz in after two years of who the hell knows what and expect to take Garrus away from us like that? Well, I don't care how big and bad a Spectre you are! You can just fuck off!"

"Mel!" Garrus snapped and grabbed her shoulder.

Shepard didn't seem threatened by Melanis's outburst. She didn't even take a glance at her as she came forward. Her eyes stayed squarely locked with Garrus's. "I need you with me. Your talent is _wasted_ here. I don't want to leave just to come back and find those gangs succeeded where they failed before."

He felt his mandibles flutter with apprehension. Her eyes were staring straight into his, and they weren't the same cold, emotionless eyes he'd normally seen. They were piercing and hard, but not cold, something like the eyes of a person who was strict out of compassion, eyes that any turian, least of all him, wouldn't lie about seeing in their home life. With a barely contained shudder, he released his hold on Melanis. "Let's get you a ship, first. Then we'll talk about who mans it."

"Garrus!" Melanis gasped. Many of the team stiffened with the same offense.

He looked over his men. "Remember that Sidonis got off this rock. If I leave—" He made eye contact with Shepard again, "—you'll have to give me a chance to kill him."

Shepard gave a curt nod. "Of course."

"Where are we going next?" Monteague cut in before anything else could be said on the subject. "We obviously can't stay at this place."

"You can't return to your homes when we don't know how much Sidonis has told. Most likely not that much, otherwise they wouldn't have struck at the base, but we should still lay low." Garrus started pulling up a map on his omni-tool.

"Every place on Omega that has rooms is run by or in partner with one of the three big players," Melanis noted, "We'd be better off trying our own apartments."

He glanced at his fellow turian. "There is one place that isn't."

Mierin attempted to rise from her seat. "We are not going to Afterlife! Aria would sell us out _for the humor of it_."

Shepard put her meal away and rose. "We may have another option, but it depends on how you feel about clearing corpses away from the place."

Vortash gave a snort. "You won't find a ship on Omega if it bothers _you_."

"That plague must have cleared up a lot of real estate," she began. "We have to get to Mordin Solus anyway, right? He's currently working in a clinic there, and, being a salarian, he's likely going to have preventative measures, possibly even a flat-out cure, for at least some different races. I'll go in with Monteague—"

"I love how I was volunteered already," the aforementioned grumbled.

"—take your injured man, and go there to see Solus. While we're there for the leg, we can talk about how to smuggle some aliens in. I can relay the information to you all, and we can find a nice, furnished place with a plague as our doorman."

Garrus shook his head. "It's not that I don't like the idea, Shepard; no matter what we do, it's going to be a gamble. But only two people going into a chaotic place like that... while watching an injured party? That part I just can't agree with."

"It'll have to be done," Shepard returned, "Your man needs fixed sooner rather than later and the only race it doesn't affect is human. It's too risky to bring anyone else." Her glare told him just exactly who she meant by "anyone else".

"Come on, Commander," he all but purred, "Since when would I let a cough hold me back?"

"You heard me, Vakarian."

He rumbled in an oddly pleased way. "Monteague, go in there and pick up Butler," he said, turning to the human male, "You'll be joining me in dragging his ass to Solus. It's up to Shepard whether or not she wants to join."

Monteague coughed to cover a laugh and stood to do as he was ordered. Shepard, on the other hand, did not appear so amused. Her eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed, and Garrus grinned a very open and obvious grin at her.

"If that's how you're going to play it, I guess I have no choice."

"Don't feel too bad, Shepard; I know you would do the same thing."

"If he's going into the quarantine zone," Melanis growled, "I'm going, too."

Garrus cringed.

"Well, I can't stop you." Shepard rose and started checking her guns. "We'll need someone to stay with the casualty as the squad moves; might as well have _two_ sick turians while we do it."

"Melanis," Garrus rumbled, "Even if we don't get sick, we could be stuck in there a while; it's not like we can walk in and out of a quarantine area."

"And that's exactly why I'm coming, sir. I'm not about to let _my_ commander go in there alone.

Garrus sighed and ran his eyes over to Shepard. "If I disallow her, you're going to bring her anyway, aren't you?"

"You know me too well." She grinned and turned towards Butler, who was preoccupied with limping on Monteague's shoulder and scanning the group with a cringe and a haze before his eyes.

* * *

><p>"Nalah is going to kill me when she finds out I'm stuck in a quarantine zone full of vorcha," Butler later hissed. He'd already been passed from Monteague to Melanis when he got tired, then passed back to Monty when Melanis started to feel dizzy a few minutes after entering the quarantine zone. The turian on guard seemed reluctant to let so many people in at once, but Shepard didn't get this far without learning how to persuade people.<p>

And by "persuade", one meant "threaten".

Shepard looked back at Butler, away from the burning corpses to their right. "Gangrene can be as deadly as an angry wife. Which one would you rather gamble on?"

"_Gangrene_," Butler answered without a thought, "You womenfolk and single boys just don't understand what sort of wrath a wife can bring onto your head."

"Of course we do. That's why we're getting you fixed," Garrus groaned, and Shepard could see how he was swallowing every other breath, "You alive means she'll kill you. You dead means she'll kill _everyone else_."

"Hostiles!" Shepard warned and sprinted towards cover, only taking it for a moment before popping up with shots. Garrus cursed and came up behind and over to the left, gesturing that Melanis should take right while Shepard ran through the vanguard. She came in with assault.

True as always, Shepard switched from gun to gun with such speed and precision that the draw itself was an art. It took the tour across the galaxy chasing Saren to really drill it into her, and the technique was not lost. There was something she wanted to try, though…

Her body shimmered away with the cloak's activation, and it lasted just long enough for her to run straight through enemy lines to the mercs' backs.

"Shepard, where are—" Garrus popped out just enough to see her and cursed with a switch from sniper to assault and moved towards the front.

Badly flanked, the group could only react in time to Shepard's sudden appearance before Garrus laid on them by the other way. It was enough to tear them apart and make short work of them. It wasn't enough to keep Shepard from getting hit, vulnerable as she was without cover and in the open to enemy fire. She staggered back, but her hand was still in motion, slipping over to a pistol with ease and putting a slug in the guy's throat.

Garrus was up a split second after the last body dropped and by her side. She was clutching at her abdomen, and he grabbed her by the arm to steady her. "Spirits… what the hell were you thinking?" Instead of berating her further, he knelt down and pushed her hand aside. There was a definite shatter in her armor; the bullet was deep and several shards of ceramic jutted out. "Shit, looks like tungsten ammo."

"Garrus, it's fine, I'm…"

"If you think I'm just going to let you walk it off this time, you've got another thing coming." He started pulling out shards one by one himself, but blinked rapidly and his breath was starting to come laboriously, fluttering his mandibles with sharp wheezes. She could see a water-like perspiration bead above his brow.

Shepard pulled him up roughly by the collar, which seemed to knock him off balance by how his expression flew into surprise faster than those plates should move. "I said I'm fine! God, you should be more worried about yourself. You look like you could pass out any minute."

A sound of gravel churning rolled through Garrus's chest, and he lunged forward at her. His gloved talons (now covered with her blood) curled up over her shoulders, and he followed as she retreated a step. She was alarmed, unsure what he was going to do next or what the strange behavior meant for his health. Would it be dangerous to let him act like this? Should she try to disable him?

His eyes squeezed shut and he released her, backing away and coughing. This turned into a fit similar to what a smoker or bronchitis patient may enjoy, and though she approached, he held up a hand to stop her as he doubled over, letting it finish out. She looked over to the rest of the team. Melanis was slumped onto a fallen piece of wall, growling and looking about as miserable as any turian possibly could. Monteague and Butler were lurching up to join them.

Garrus's coughing fit rolled to a stop and he finally had a chance to try to straighten out, but was instead bowed somewhat backwards when he laid his eyes on her wound. Shepard grimaced. She hadn't felt the pain of the wound for a few seconds now, assuming the armor also did the job of pumping numbing agents in the area. She prodded at her midriff, expecting her hand to slide into a chewed up, meaty hole and unable to feel it.

Instead, it stopped at a flat surface and the skin of her belly twitched at the sensation of her cold gauntlets. She looked down and saw only smooth flesh where carnage was supposed to be.

"That... doesn't look normal."

"No," Garrus agreed warily, "It doesn't."

* * *

><p>"More patients than time," the salarian doctor said as they approached, "Impossible to save everyone. Go crazy if you try. So save who you can, move on. Save more if we hurry."<p>

"We shouldn't be waiting in here for people to come to us! We should be—"

"Professor Mordin Solus?" Shepard called out, marching forward in a way that drew attention purposefully. The conversation stopped, but it didn't even take a beat before Solus approached and waved his omni-tool over Garrus and Melanis.

Garrus instantly felt like a tight wrap that squeezed his chest had been unraveled as the light from the omni-tool medical software hummed over him. A thankful sigh from Melanis showed that she was feeling quite the same way about it.

"Turian physiology resilient with simple immunobooster. Should be fine, now." He glanced over at Butler. "Came to fix comrade's leg? Unfortunately, no time. Treatment and physical rehabilitation takes days. More than enough patients already!" He paced over and looked back at Shepard. "Hmm, don't recognize you from area. Walked ahead of Vakarian, but Vakarian always enters at lead." He gave a smile as if he thought of a joke. "Perhaps _you_ are Archangel?"

Shepard either didn't think the joke was funny or didn't care to understand that he was joking. "I'm Commander Shepard, and I came here to get your cooperation. Garrus's men here are in a bad spot, and I'm in the need of some information you might research for me."

"Picked bad time. Too busy. Clinic understaffed." Unable to sit still, he went back to his desk and leaned over his readouts. "Plague spreading too fast." He sniffed and looked up. "Could work a deal."

"Name it," she said.

"Already have a cure." Mordin shifted again to another console. "Need to distribute it at environmental control center. Vorcha guarding it."

The human assistant huffed. "We should have tried to go ourselves, then!"

"No, no, no, no. Already patients here and too little man power to attack. Now have four soldiers outfitted for combat." He gave them another appraising look. "Shepard particularly well outfitted. Curious who you're with."

"We'll discuss that later," she agreed, "As for now, you'll fix our friend's leg if we take care of the vorcha and spread out the cure."

"Yes. Start is simple enough. Can do amputation quickly while you are gone."

"_Amputation?"_ Butler moaned pitifully. Monteague patted his back good-naturedly and sat him down on a gurney. Mordin continued as if he didn't hear the complaint.

"Rest have equipment for. Matter of time and labor. Will also do research. Curious what noted _dead_ Spectre may require."

Shepard quirked her head towards the door. "Let's go."


	5. Hansel and Gretel

Disclaimer: Chapter One.

You guys, my readers, rock hard core. I'm not sure what else I could say to express how thankful I am for your awesomeness, so I'll just continue on to the story and hope that's enough.

* * *

><p>The only thing Garrus could think of after his head cleared up, even as he watched the exchange between Shepard and Solus, was how <em>mortified<em> he was.

When Shepard was injured from her insane stunt, he should have been worried about her. Which he was; that was exactly something like she would have done before, and the calls of "Shepard's been hit" from two years ago still rang very clearly in his ears. Whoever decided to outfit Shepard with an infiltration cloak along with whatever else they'd done to her must not have known her battle strategies. _Of__ course _she would use it to infiltrate enemy lines as soon as possible. That might've been the point, but that didn't make it any less dangerous.

But then she yanked him to his feet with such aggression and, damnit, her scent was swirling all around him. _The__ scent__ of__ her __blood, __you__ sick__ bastard._ Next thing he knew, his hands were on her and he was in her face, the fever that he was getting between the burning bodies and the plague rolling through him like a fire of a different kind. And he didn't want to let go, not until the implications caught up with him.

Between the Blue Suns and the Blood Pack, the movement from secured position to secured position wasn't that much different from his day-to-day life for the past several months. It gave him a certain sense of grounding, drilling holes in the heads of mercs, while he thought this over. He'd much rather have Shepard in his life than not any day, and he'd already decided to go with her to continue the fight when the time came. But what this would mean, for him, for his men, for Shepard... it was too complicated to see where it was going from here.

Two years were, apparently, not long enough for door encryption technologies to get past Shepard's ability to crack them. Maybe add a minute or so to the process, but that door was going to open. The added time, however, was enough for Melanis.

"Garrus, we have to talk."

"Now isn't the best time," he said as his eyes continued to scan the room and over the fallen bodies for any movement.

"I'm serious!" She lowered her head and shook it. "Look, I know we haven't exactly been in a relationship, but... but things have _happened_."

"Yeah, alcohol _does_ make things happen."

"Don't be an ass about this!" she shrieked in exasperation, "Just because it started with a party doesn't make it any less _real_."

"If that's how you see it, then you're just too young to understand what it was all about." He flinched at his own words. Was he being unnecessarily cold about this? Still, she had to be told. "You're still at an age where you could be in service if you weren't born outside the Hierarchy."

"I'm not a child! I know what it was all about!" Her mandibles whacked out and back onto her facial plates audibly. "Do you think I'm blind? Fuck, I saw what just _happened_ between you and her before we got to the clinic! _Purring_ openly like that!"

He stiffened and finally turned to glare at her. "Mel, this has nothing to do with you."

"You know she doesn't think of you the same way! If she did, would she have disappeared for two years without a word? Would she have let you suffer like that, thinking she was dead? And you're just going to let her walk right back in and all over you like some sort of—"

Monteague came to the rescue. "Mel! Stop being so selfish for just one second and remember where we are! Did you forget that four of our brothers-in-arms died just today?"

She lurched back. "I-I..."

"Shepard is almost finished with the door." He grimaced and gestured towards it. "Why don't you stop bothering the boss and make yourself useful? Stand guard so we don't have _more_ people get shot in the back."

She was struck in an unhappy silence, but she gave a nod and pulled out a rifle to do as she was told. Monteague shook his head in her wake.

"I suppose I should thank you for coming in when you did," Garrus said, "Usually, I can handle her just fine, but today..."

"She's just hurt and confused and lashing out at everything. It's been a hell of a twenty-four hours, you know."

"Yeah," Garrus agreed. "It's... ah... been hard for all of us. I think we'll all be a little better company once we're able to sit down for a bit."

The door swished open, and Shepard pulled out a gun as easily as ever before falling lock-step with Melanis. Garrus gestured at Monteague to move. "I'm afraid the team will need a little more than time to think, though."

"We'll get along, Boss." Monteague said confidently, then gave a sideways glance as they marched. "...Reapers, huh?"

"Reapers." Garrus confirmed.

A bullet whizzed by his collar, and he slid to the side before returning fire. Human Blue Suns, he could understand, but why the Blood Pack let their representation here exceed the mere presence of the vorcha baffled Garrus a little. Maybe the krogan simply didn't trust the vorcha to get the job done without guidance.

Once again, Shepard disappeared from view and reappeared, giving Garrus his second heart attack in so many hours. She made quick work of the krogan warrior, but the vorcha pyro was on her faster than the body fell. She was bathed in fire, but instead of falling back, she descended on him, flames licking past her armored body like a rising devil. She punched the creature once in its teeth, then laid on it with her assault rifle. Her form whipped around, and that was enough to prod his heart back into beating.

_You know she doesn't think of you the same way._

That statement shouldn't have stung as much as it did.

* * *

><p>The vorcha's needle-toothed and black mouth. "You don't come here! Everyone choke and die! Then Collectors make us strong!"<p>

"_Collectors__"__?__ What __the __hell __are__ "__Collectors__"__?_ Shepard wondered. "What do the Collectors want?"

It hissed again. "Collectors want plague! You work for doctor! Put cure in air! We kill you first!"

Why was nothing ever easy? Apparently, Shepard's whole life/career came down to her having to fight tooth and nail just to be able to brush her teeth and sleep a cycle. Who the hell knows what happened to the two years she missed, but, she supposed, she'll have to just consider it a long vacation that she's going to have to make up time on. She could just throw the cure into the fans and cure the whole district, but _noooo_, fucking "Collectors" prodded some shit-eating vorcha to get in her way at every turn. And not just a few vorcha. Considering how durable the little bastards were, there were more than enough vorcha here to make up an army between her and the _back __wall__ less __than __three-hundred__ yards__ in __front_.

She shot dead the one who was talking with ease, but even as she went in a trot up, more flooded onto her right flank. That pretty much threw her off into the defensive, and she had to cloak just to avoid getting blotted out of the scene by bullets. She skid just in time beside where Melanis was crouched before the duration spent. "Shit! Fire hard to the side!"

"We still have enemies out front!"

"Don't worry about them; they're far enough ahead that they'll have to merge with the bulk!" Shepard peaked over and gave three bursts from an SMG into the chest of the closest, more than enough to make it fall with a satisfying shriek. "At least they will when I'm pressing them."

"You're cocky for a human, aren't you?"

Shepard smirked. "You're the second one of Garrus's soldiers to mention that."

Just as they were making headway with the ranks of cannon-fodder vorcha being thrown at them, an explosion rocked the floor. Monteague, further down, had to brace himself against a crate. "What the fuck was that?"

"If I were to bet," Garrus called, "the vorcha just took out the fans with an explosion. If this district doesn't die from the plague, it's going to die from asphyxiation!"

"Because we didn't have _enough_ reason to work quickly," Shepard griped, launched a grenade in the middle of the enemy mass, and turned on her cloak just in time to run into the newly created divide. Three sweeps with an assault and five slugs to the shoulder later, she came, saw, and conquered her way to the back wall.

Monteague stood in her wake. "That... did that really just happen?"

Garrus's voice, on the other hand, sounded knowingly amused. "I thought you knew the depths of human insanity, Monty."

Shepard did smirk a moment, but once the cure was in place, she didn't take a moment to gloat and continued her race through the halls of the environmental control facility. "More enemies further through!"

Monteague shrieked some sort of complaint about moving his battered muscles.

* * *

><p>"You don't think you're being a little heavy handed?"<p>

Miranda looked at Jacob in near mystification. The red-orange glow of Omega made for bad lighting on her, as if the color pallet itself was an expression of the station's hostility. "We have to do what it takes to get the information quickly. You know that. It's not like we're even torturing prisoners. Just detaining until we determine how much information we can get from them."

"I'm not questioning that," he said, then made a vague gesture, "I'm just saying you've been on the offensive since this mission started. Wilson managed to slip away with Shepard, but gun-waving won't always make the process of fixing that any quicker."

"That may be true, but we're on Omega now. Gun-waving is expected."

"_Outside_ of that." Jacob shook his head. "I guess it doesn't matter in the end. Do we have the stats on Harrot?"

"_Harrot__'__s __Emporium __is __located __in__ the__ upper__ market __district_," EDI's voice chimed over the comm. _"__A__ comparison__ of__ goods__ in__ the__ area__ shows__ his__ to__ be__ the__ cheapest,__ almost __certainly__ gained__ through__ pirating__ and __other__ aggressive __methods.__ He__ seems__ to__ be__ using__ low__ prices__ to__ drive__ competitors__ out __of __business.__"_

"Not exactly fair practice, price caps, or monopoly laws here," Jacob noted.

"We're not here to pass judgment," Miranda said, "but if he gets it from pirating, it would make a lot of sense how our 'friends' managed to obtain the shuttle. And it might mean Shepard _hasn't_ been taken by the Shadow Broker."

"Elcor aren't exactly easy to intimidate, and merchants don't like giving up business secrets," Jacob pointed out, "Some old-fashioned 'good cop, bad cop' couldn't hurt in this situation."

"And I suppose I'll be the bad cop."

Jacob had to smile at how she sounded mildly offended, despite that she tended to put herself in that role more often than not. "Hey. Nothing gets a guy quicker than an aggressive woman, you know."

She threw a glare at him, knowing it was an obvious placation. He merely kept his smile and shrugged.

Harrot kept his counter, looking as vaguely unaffected by his surroundings like every other elcor a human has ever interacted with. His eyes fell on them as they approached, and he took the chance for a greeting first. "Tentatively excited: Welcome, humans. What can I get you?"

"A shuttle with planetary flight and FTL capabilities." She leaned forward. "Specifically of the UT class, if you have it."

"Suspicious: That's a very specific ship type."

"A few of my _acquaintances_ told me they got a deal like that from you," she countered.

"Accusatory: I don't understand how my past customers are any concern of yours."

"We just need to know who your supplier is, Harrot," Jacob said good-naturedly, "All you have to do is point us in the right direction, and we'll get out of your head-scarf."

"Or," Miranda offered with thinly-veiled contempt, "we can just raid your stall here for any information you've got. I'm sure it wouldn't take very long to link-up your terminal here to our ship and have our data cracking systems break it open."

"With mixed fear and resentment: My suppliers would not respond positively to being ousted."

Jacob crossed his arms. "She isn't bluffing, Harrot. We have an AI on our ship that can tear your whole identity apart if we had to. But, you're smart. You're a business man. Surely, we won't _have_ to."

"Horrified surprise: If you truly have an AI, then you're already more insane than I want to deal with. With resignation: I will give you what information you need, as long as you agree to no harm."

"No harm _to__ you_, of course," Miranda clarified.

"With growing reassurance: Of course."

* * *

><p>"Environmental systems engaged. Airborne viral levels dropping, patients improving, vorcha retreating... Well done, Shepard. Thank you."<p>

Shepard went on to the next matter of business. "The vorcha mentioned Collectors wanting the plague to spread when we went through. Do you know anything about that?"

"Collectors? Interesting. Explains vorcha success ability. Also, plague hitting these slums is engineered. Collectors one of few groups with technology to design it." He went into a full pace. "Then implications to consider. Possible goal of virus: testing viable mutation levels in various species. Humans known to have diverse genetic background; wider range than other sapient races. Even more interesting, rise in Collector activity where previously thought as myth due to minimal exposure in official space. Activity especially high among slavers with..." He stopped and sniffed. "...human cargo."

"Do you think there's some sort of agenda here?"

"Unsure. Not enough data, mostly speculation. Possible humans only control group for testing plague."

She waved away that line of questioning, but made a mental note to look in further about the Collectors later. "What about our man we left here? Can you help him?"

"Yes, of course. With plague cured, clinical duties will decrease an expected seventy percent. Your friend already prepped and is currently sedated. Can begin next step of procedure immediately. You mentioned research needed done as part of the deal?"

"If it's all the same to you," Garrus cut in, "I think we should try to find a place to sleep and comm in the rest of the party before we end up holing in here. I remember a good flat a little ways back. It's big enough to house us all temporarily and can easily be sealed in the time being. As long as we keep one or two people on watch it should be easily defensible, even if the Blue Suns or Blood Pack decide to try roving through the area."

Shepard pursed her lips. "You three go on ahead and call your men in. I'll stay here with the doctor."

He tilted his head slightly. "You're sure? Whatever you want to ask will still be there tomorrow, Shepard."

She frowned and slid a finger into one of the new notches in her armor. "I draw a blank on two years, have skin that hardly even bruises, and there's a Cerberus symbol stamped on the suit beneath my armor. If I'm a bio-android built by a terrorist organization and the _real_ Shepard died two years ago, I want to know."

Garrus hesitated, eyes flashing up and down over her form, and looked like he was about to say something. Instead, he bent his head in supplication. "I'll send you word when we get there. And make sure there's a bed saved for you."

"Thank you, Garrus."

He smiled in a strange, bittersweet way that she couldn't remember if she'd ever seen on a turian. "Anytime, Commander."

* * *

><p>The flat they had managed to secure was large. It had two bedrooms and almost as much space as Garrus's last apartment. That said, with two beds and three couches, since one had to be on alert at all times, anyway, there wasn't a lack of space (though it was very obvious this had to be a temporary crashing pad). Krul easily claimed one of the beds for himself without contention, and the other was, more or less, pushed onto Garrus to use. He tried to fight his way out of it through modesty, but, after a hot shower and one last scan of the local gossip through the Extranet, he was happy to fall into the cushions. Even if they did smell a little off.<p>

He darkened the lights and burrowed himself among the covers happily, snoozing away for an unknowable amount of time in dreamless sleep. Then he was awake, but just barely. The first thing he was aware of was that the blue pillow he had a habit of using to support his neck between his collar and fringe was not there. The second thing was that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and someone was standing at the foot of the large bed.

"Didn't mean to wake you, Garrus. There's a bit of a lack of places to crash and someone said the beds were big. But, you seem to have taken over this one, so..."

He stared at her blearily. "Shepard." His brain wasn't catching up with what had happened over course of the day, or even really that he wasn't in his own bed that was now obliterated. He tilted his head and blurted, "You're dead."

A strangely sad smile pulled her lips, and here, in the darkness, she just looked like one of those dreamlets you see and hear when you're half asleep that you won't remember later. "Yeah. I am."

Instead of questioning why a dead woman was in the room with him, he decided that he only wanted to continue sleeping, and that sleep would do well for Shepard, too. If he were all there, he would have simply offered her the bed and set up on the floor with some bedding for the night. What he did, instead, was reach out for her. Reach across the bed, across the room, capture her with his talons, and pull her in with him. She made a sound of surprise and tried to squirm away, but he caged her and brought her down to the mattress.

"Just sleep," he murmured.

"I was asleep for two years."

Garrus couldn't really get the argument at the moment, and he didn't want to. All he knew was that she looked tired, and Shepard, of all people deserved rest. When she tried to worm herself out of his grasp again, he rolled over and pinned her underneath his weight. She pressed against him uselessly, huffed, and said something that sounded like was probably a joke. After that point, her hard body became warm and compliant, easily enveloping his reedy limbs. He buried his muzzle into her hair, took one deep breath, and only vaguely lamented that there was nothing supporting his neck and fringe while he drifted back off.


	6. Sleeping Beauty

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

Wow! That last chapter got such a big response! I'm really flabbergasted. I really don't know what to say except... Thank you, everyone! This is what I mean by awesome readers! :D I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story so far, and I hope it doesn't fall short for any of you as the chapters go on.

* * *

><p>Three slugs into the batarian's leg killed his mobility. He made a defensive spray with his SMG as he limped towards cover. His team shot up into action in his wake, running down to take the attention of the two human attackers.<p>

Bursts of biotic energy flung three of them back. Another ran in to fill the gap and make a frontal assault, but all that poor bastard got for his trouble was an incendiary shotgun shell in his skull. Jacob popped a heat-sink and marched forward, firing shot after shot. When a krogan came out, looking to have every intention of not going down easy, he sent out energy and pulled the large mass of muscle towards him. Then picked off his redundant organs while he hovered in the air.

Miranda was just as methodical in her battle plan. She went for disabling shots, then blasted a warp when they were grouped together. If Jacob had a pull going, she took advantage of detonating it whenever she could. They had a structured teamwork, moving step by step, that could only happen from working together for so long. They were professionals.

The last one fell, and they stepped over the bodies and the growing pools of blood to their target. The batarian was cursing and trying his best to drag his useless foot along. A shaky hand kept his SMG up, but one little bit of biotic energy took that from him, and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor with a foot on his leg. He howled.

"I'll tell you whatever you want!" he begged, "Just let me go!"

Jacob increased his weight. "Slavers. That this is our next link doesn't bode well for our mission, huh?"

"Assuming they would make a slave out of Commander Shepard," Miranda said, then knelt to look at the batarian at a more level position. "And you're going to tell us exactly all you know about that."

"I-I don't know anything about a Commander Shepard," he moaned, "I don't deal in Alliance soldiers! That shit'll get you killed!"

"And that's exactly why we're here," Jacob said.

"Our body was in cryo when the shipment was taken. Part of the cargo. From what I understand, you're at the top of the supply chain to Harrot, and Harrot had sold the transport of that cargo after it'd been pirated. I'm sure you could enlighten us on a little on where the rest of the cargo is." Miranda smiled a cold smile.

"Sure, sure... I can get you to where I keep my goods until I can look through them and get them sold. And the, uh, manifests. And whatever else you need to track who you need down."

"Can't show us anything with a leg like that," Jacob said, "It'd be better if you just gave us directions."

"Yeah, all right." The batarian pulled up and arm and flicked away at his omnitool Jacob moved to do the same and looked over the message. "Got the address. Looks like a warehouse district near an apartment complex."

"_I am receiving information that much of that area has been demolished by explosions of unknown origin,"_ EDI's voice came, _"There may be difficulty in getting to the destination due to the uproar and subsequent clean-up."_

"Certainly sounds like Shepard's MO." Miranda rose. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Shepard would wake up a little every time Garrus shifted, but it was easy to go back to sleep. Unexpectedly, over a hundred kilos of turian made a pretty fine bed-warmer; even with his hard carapace, scales, and sharp angles, much of him had a pliant consistency. It was almost as if there was a two meter long, leather blanket laying over her. That breathed and had a heartbeat. And snored.<p>

Hell, even that snore wasn't so bad. He rumbled softly, rhythmically, in his chest like a motor, which was actually endearing after a years of ship travel on not-necessarily-quiet military vessels. Hell, it was soothing, and pretty damn _adorable_ when it came right down to it. She vaguely wondered how humans during the First Contact would take the idea that these pointy, aggressive aliens made very comfortable bed-mates. Then again, knowing human nature, a few Alliance soldiers stationed at Shanxi probably found that out for themselves.

She wasn't sure how Garrus, on the other hand, was going to take this when he woke up. The Cerberus-stamped under-suit was damp and stank of battle when he pulled her into the covers, and he was tired and half-conscious. For some reason, it seemed like a good idea to Garrus to have her sleep in his arms even in that state, though if Shepard had any inkling this sort of thing would happen, she would have taken a shower and changed before looking for a bed. Maybe her smell didn't bother him. He seemed just as content to bury his face in her as he did the sheets.

Hmm, okay, there are better ways to put that.

Still, even if a sleepy Garrus made questionable decisions, she couldn't get angry at the sincerity; she needed to rest, and he did just as he said about saving a bed for her. So what if it meant being a giant alien's squishy teddy bear for the night? The galaxy wouldn't end itself because two people slept in the same bed. Garrus had been through hell that day and was completely willing to take on her problems as well. It was sweet, even if he might deny that much. She couldn't help but make a little laugh and turn her head to kiss his cheekbone innocently. That little bit of movement, sound, and contact made him stir, and his eyes slid open.

That was when he stiffened.

"Shit!" He pulled himself up and away from her, and though the loss of contact was a more disappointing than she expected, she couldn't help but smile as he started trying to talk himself out of the situation. "Shepard! I didn't… crap, I wasn't thinking. I should have waited for you to come from Mordin's clinic and given you the bed, not end up crashing on it and…" He sighed. "I don't normally do this."

"And here I thought dragging alien women into bed with you was typical behavior," she joked, "I know you were half asleep, Garrus."

"It doesn't mean I should have done that. I'm sorry, Commander, but please believe me that trying to get you in bed with me was the _least_ of my concerns."

"Ashamed for the company?" she said. The tone came off a little more suggestive than she had meant.

"I-I uh…" His mandibles fluttered in bursts and he looked adorably awkward and conflicted. She decided to lessen the pressure on the poor man and patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. You were tired, I was tired, and this bed is more than big enough for two. We've been through too much together to be prudes about sharing sleeping space."

"That's… one way to put it in perspective, I guess."

"So calm down and come back to bed. We could both use the rest while we have the chance." She pulled herself up, looking at him seriously. "Though, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can go see if one of the couches is free."

"No. No, you stay in bed." He stood and went towards his armor. "I had enough sleep."

Her eyes stayed square on him as he moved. "You sure?"

"I need to check up on Butler, anyway." He started pulling his armor piece by piece. "If he's awake, maybe talk to him about contacting Nalah. She gets worried when he's been gone a day. I'm surprised my omni-tool isn't pinging with message notifications every other minute."

"As long as I'm not kicking you out. You've helped me out a lot, here, Garrus. It's not easy waking up from the dead."

That finally got a smile out of him. "If this is what I get, I'd gladly take charge waking you up every morning."

She quirked a brow at him.

"…That's not what I meant."

She let her grin speak for itself and shook her head, re-rooting herself among the covers. "Don't get shot at during the walk."

"I'll try my best, but I can't make any promises."

* * *

><p>Shepard's scent followed Garrus wherever he went, and it was driving him mad.<p>

It was easier to ignore when walking through the burned-flesh-smell of these slums, or when someone was trying to accost him, but when the conversation with Butler and Mordin veered away from him, he'd smell Shepard, coming from him. Or, more specifically, from the body-suit underneath his armor. He wasn't so surprised that he noticed it; if a root with a turian woman ended up with him sleeping in her bunk, the feminine scent clinging on him the following day would bug him. When it came down to it, he didn't like _not_ smelling like himself. Solana said it was a sign of commitment issues, and, well, he pretty much accepted that reasoning and went on with his life.

Shepard's scent, on the other hand, tortured him a different way. It made his mouth water, made him want to march right back to the occupied flat and burrow right back where he found himself when he awoke that morning, made him want to eat Shepard up like some sort of salty, exotic dessert.

His mind should be on more important things, damnit. Like the fact that four of his men were dead and one wounded because of his inability to see treachery for what it was.

"Boss?"

It wasn't a good sign that her scent was distracting him even when he _was_ being talked to, either. "Hmm?"

"I said I think we should get back to our homes as soon as we can. Nalah's been looking out for any unusual behavior in our neighborhood since I messaged last night, and she said she hasn't seen anything."

His gaze went flat on the human. "You messaged her last night? Do you know how dangerous that could be if they track that down?"

Butler waved his hand. "You really weren't listening. I sent a message through Solus. He assured me his software's well-encrypted and proxied. They'd need three quarians on sand to crack it."

"Could let you see source-code if you doubt integrity," Mordin chirped.

"No… no, I believe you." He scanned over Butler's new leg. "If your programming abilities are at all comparable to your prosthetic-making, then I'm sure my looking over anything would be unnecessary."

"Prosthetic easy to produce; can even upgrade limb significantly, however balance to other leg would be compromised if remained uncybernetic. Could offer implant to if you wish to upgrade and maintain equilibrium?"

"No, this is just fine," Butler said, "One weird leg is more than enough."

Garrus settled his gaze on Mordin. "Speaking of cybernetics, you studied Shepard's body when she stayed here the night before?"

Mordin looked over Garrus. "Yes, of course, but patient-doctor confidentiality a sacred trust. Revealing personal information without Shepard's consent _unethical_."

"You can't even give me any clues, here? I'm worried about her. She doesn't have any recollection of the past two years since the _Normandy_ went down, and ever since I woke her up, she seems to be invulnerable to damage, but I don't even know if she should be out and about _at all_."

The salarian seemed to take Garrus's comment seriously. "Not invulnerable to damage, but definitely reduced chances from cybernetic upgrades." Mordin paced to the other side of the room, them pulled up some holographic diagrams vaguely resembling the human figure, if the human figure were made of branching vines. "Skin weave, durable to cuts and absorbs shock at an even distribution; various regenerative properties, more than enough implants to increase physical performance. Most would require invasive surgeries at best. Others not so easy." The diagram changed as he talked, information flying far too quickly for Garrus to keep up with. It blinked away and Mordin sniffed. "A human body could not survive these procedures. Conclusion: Shepard was rebuilt."

Garrus blinked. "…What, from scratch?"

"No, no, no." Mordin turned away and paced again. "Used original body; evidence of procedures only performed on human cadavers. Unsure why; clones and synthetic bodies much cheaper. Shepard alive in her own body must be commodity to Cerberus; R-and-D would be expensive for procedure."

"Then, Cerberus... brought her back from the dead?"

"Correct." Mordin looked to Butler and back to Garrus. "Must understand this information should be confidential. Only revealed as Shepard wished to tell you, but being alive after being dead is rare and usually unwelcome. Rumors in such an atmosphere... unpleasant."

"Trust me; I'm not about to spread that around," Garrus answered easily.

Butler put on a sour face and lurched himself forward, onto his feet, and standind up straight in one motion. Other eyes were drawn to him, shocked, but he merely tapped his new heel on the floor a couple times and shrugged.

"If it's the same to you all," the human said, "with my thanks and wishes to you, Mordin, I'd just as soon like to get to the rest of the team and get on the road home."

"Of course. Adjustment in familiar settings important." He pulled out a hand cannon and passed it to Butler, "Here. Blue Suns weapon to take in good health. Might be needed; being unarmed while traveling Omega slums ill advised."

"Err..." Butler scanned over the gift, turning it in his hand. "Uh, sure, doc. Thanks. For everything."

* * *

><p>A good sleep and one shower later, Shepard felt brand new. More brand new than she did when Garrus originally woke her up, which was a little ironic since she literally was brand new, then. At least, that's how Mordin explained it.<p>

She considered throwing on some stolen clothes and doing laundry, but she couldn't find any clothes that would fit a human woman and decided it was best to be able to slide straight into her armor at any given moment.

There were holes, but those could be patched. More importantly, there were holes in her armor. When she heard noise coming from the common room, she exited, looking to see who was up.

"Melanis, right?"

The turian woman looked up from the gun she was fussing with, one mandible flicking in what seemed like indignation. "You want something, human?"

"Do you have any armor patching or even some sealant?" Shepard pointed a thumb back to the bedroom she came from, where her armor had been left to wait. "I've got a few holes I need to fill until I can get it professionally repaired."

"What makes you think I have anything like that?"

God, why did his whole team insist on being difficult? It's one thing to not like taking orders from your superior's superior, but being an ass the whole way just struck Shepard as childish. It wasn't like she was asking Melanis to grab her ankles. "You wear heavy armor."

Melanis looked strangely unsatisfied with the answer, which was unusual because the reasoning struck Shepard as perfectly logical. Wordlessly, Melanis reached into an open pack she'd been working out of, pulled out a gray and orange tube, then tossed it at Shepard. It was caught with little trouble, and Shepard gave a nod.

"Thanks. I'll return it after I'm done." She walked back towards the bedroom.

"Hey."

The commander stopped and tilted her head back to Melanis, indicating that she was listening.

"What were you doing for two years that you couldn't let anyone know you were alive?" Her voice was unnecessarily cold for someone who'd she'd just met.

"Being dead," Shepard answered flatly, which, as far as she knew, was the complete truth.

"If you're going to bullshit me, human, then at least try singing a different tune." Shepard could hear Melanis rise from where she was sitting and approach slowly. "You don't just come back and pretend like nothing happened. You don't just come in here and threaten to take our leader away for your own crazy cause."

With a scowl, Shepard allowed herself to face Melanis eye to eye, and she glowered. "If you have a problem with me, you'd be doing us both a favor by cutting to the chase. Are you really just being pissy that I came in and helped Garrus save your asses?"

"Leave Garrus alone. He doesn't need something like you."

"If Garrus had a problem with me, he'd tell me himself," Shepard countered, obviously unimpressed.

"What sort of woman leaves her mate to mourn her for two years like that? Do human women always have so few scruples?"

"_Mate?_" Shepard twisted her mouth even further. "I don't have time for this!"

"What's all the yelling about?" a low batarian voice grumbled from a couch. "Can't you women take your catfights outside?"

"She needs to know her place!" Melanis shot back, "Taking advantage of us for resources... stealing from us like a... like a..."

"Just shut up and let it go!" Vortash blinked at her with his four eyes and turned back over. "If the damn patching bothers you so much, I'll buy you a new tube when we get out of here. _Just let me sleep!_ I've been sweeping boards and chats all night to make sure no one's got tips about our position, and every word you two say is transcribed into orange text when I close my eyes."

They both stood silently a moment, but Melanis gave a nod towards Shepard. "I should apologize."

"Don't worry about it." Shepard glanced at her. "Talk to Garrus about this."

"I will... I intend to."

"_Ladies,_" Vortash growled, "_Please._ If you could kiss and make up _somewhere else..._"


	7. The Goblins at the Bath House

Disclaimer: Chapter one. As a reminder, I did say _maturity_. That could mean possibly sexual content, right? Right.

My god. Every chapter just gets a bigger an bigger response! I'm really quite overwhelmed! I'm really struggling not to address a lot of you who have reviewed in this chapter (I used to do it on another profile and it got to the point of bogging down my writing to do responses), but there's just a couple of you I really, really, really gotta address.  
>Sedgehammer: When I got your review, I had to chuckle, because I was at the time proofreading the last segment of the chapter.<br>SingedFringe: Huh. That sounds like a plausible etymology to me. Cool. I just thought it was a funny little Aussie/Kiwi word, assumed it had something to do with British penal colonies, and left it at that. XD  
>Herr<span>Wozzeck<span>: FELLOW VIOLA PLAYER! *fistbump*  
>black0nepylm: I actually almost wrote that last chapter, but the way it was writing was making Melanis much bitchier than she deserved so I had Vortash cut her off before she made Shepard want to break her face.<p>

And as for the rest of you, please don't think I forgot about you! Quite the contrary; I am so thrilled by each review, favorite, and alert, and I reread my reviews all the time like some sort of mad... reader... person-thing. Yeah. Anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH! As a token of my appreciation, here's another chapter with moar content than originally intended.

* * *

><p><em>There's never an easy way to say these words. Experience says that, as you receive this letter and read it, you will be feeling a lot of dread and confusion. Let me assure you that it's normal. It's normal to be confused and feel your head spin like the world doesn't make sense. What's getting to you is that you've understood it more quickly than you should have. You already know what this message will say before you even finish reading this sentence.<em>

_You may have once considered Nikon bad blood for the rest of the Sensat family. His life has been hard and I'm not going to lie about all the well-wishes towards his family that he never gave. Biotics may be rare in the Hierarchy, but that didn't make him any less of a soldier. Nikon Sensat was_

Garrus stopped typing and stared long at the fetus of a paragraph. This was a deeply important and sensitive matter, and he was struggling with the words, himself._ Nikon__ Sensat __was_ should not be written. Not by him. Not when Sensat had been so young with a lover that was prepared to stay by his side until he died of old age. Not when the young man had finally found a goddamn family in this fucked up galaxy that would accept him unconditionally.

Spirits, what made Garrus think he could lead a team? Just because he saw Shepard do it? That was the flaw in itself; Shepard was a goddamn _living __legend _that even death couldn't defeat. What was he? A washed-up C-Sec cop that dropped out of Spectre training to go waltzing matilda across the Terminus Systems.

And why should he be informing the Sensat clan, anyway? Erash's clan wasn't so hard; it was a simple, to the point message, with enough condolences to put through that he wasn't just trying to get the message out of away, but short enough to not further antagonize the grieving process. But he'd only heard shit and more shit about Sensat's family. His mother had been exposed to eezo during a mission before she found out she was pregnant, and _he_ took the punishment. Hell, he didn't get any let-up until he was old enough to join boot-camp, when he was at least able to hold off the animosity along-side other biotics. This history only came out when he was drunk and he ended up (very much accidentally) seducing Mierin with his sob story.

But, family was important to turians, even Sensat, and clan law was clan law. It was hard for Garrus to imagine Solana or his mother ever treating him with animosity, and even his father was well-meaning most of the time. It was his duty as Sensat's superior to break the news, whether they cared about their son or not. If he was going to play commander, he had to take responsibility even at the hardest of times.

_Nikon Sensat was_

Those three words were a goddamn tragedy.

The doors slid open. "Garrus?"

He kept himself from cringing at that voice. It was Melanis. And she was here to talk. And she wasn't going to leave until the conversation was over. Yeah, maybe he should just get it over with and stop stringing the girl along, but he really wished he could just kick the can a little farther down the road. It would be easy enough to make excuses.

Then again, "another time" was how most problems came to grow and fester. Better to swallow his medicine. "Yes, Mel?"

"You...uh, free at the moment?" She already sounded nervous. Great. He needed to feel even more like a loathsome piece of shit, today.

He turned towards her. "I'm writing up a condolence letter for Sensat." He paused a moment and added, "I can definitely use a moment of rest from it, though."

She shuddered and her features tightened, but she gave a nod. "Right. It's just... it's hard to remember that we lost four people just yesterday. I guess it's because I didn't see their bodies, but..."

"I saw them and, trust me, seeing a body doesn't help cement it that much. It just makes the situation more surreal for the first while." He turned his chair towards her. "This isn't what you came in here to talk about, though. Sit."

She complied, but didn't seem any more assuaged by that. Her eyes stayed on the floor. "It seems... selfish of me to bring this up, now. With all this shit going on. We lost four men and Butler lost a leg. Mierin and Vortash are just shattered, though good luck getting that crotchety old batarian to admit it." She shook her head. "And Lantar turned out to be a backstabbing coward."

"People are allowed to be selfish, Mel. Monty was just getting on you yesterday because was snapping at each other." Garrus said, taking care to keep neutral. Trying to draw her out. "You were sweet on Sidonis, once."

Melanis looked up, the plates on her pulled taut. "Only for a bit. Not as much as... Sir..." She swallowed and continued, "_Garrus_... I've never met anyone like you. Not in all the Terminus Systems. Not one turian I met, in the Hierarchy or out of it. When I joined up, I thought I'd find more of the same. Assholes who think that a little military experience solves everything, or Omega trash that couldn't keep their guns firing against a real operation. I... didn't expect to find someone with integrity. Someone with honor." Her harmonics keened. "You."

"Mel."

"I couldn't help it." She stood and stepped towards him. "You made it so easy. I respect you. I guess we all do, but I can't help but admire you. You stay strong against so many odds, always getting the job done and... at some point during it all, I sort of fell for you." She reached down and took his hands in her own. "You can understand that, can't you? Feeling like that for someone you look up to?"

His claws squeezed hers a little. What she was saying did strike close to home, but he didn't want her to take the wrong impression. "I haven't exactly been fair to you, Mel. That time a few weeks ago..."

"Don't start," she interrupted, "I shouldn't have tried to turn what happened into something it's not. I've slept with men before. I understand casual sex as much as the next girl. Hell, I've even taken advantage that female turians are rare outside of colonies. I guess it's just—" She smiled. "—_different_ when you're in love."

"Still, I shouldn't have done something like that and used alcohol as an excuse." He looked down at their joined hands. "You're young. I took advantage of you."

"Maybe it's the other way around. Maybe I took advantage of you." One of her hands let go and went up to lightly trace one of his mandibles. It flicked at the contact involuntarily like a flinch. "I'm not so much younger than you that I couldn't see it. It always seemed like you were looking for something. I thought I might be able to fit the bill, but you went back to searching the next day. I think I knew it then, but... I wouldn't have given that night up for anything." Her fingers withdrew. "Why did you come here of all places, Garrus? There are plenty of places to be a vigilante other than Omega."

He looked up slowly and met her eye to eye, and chose to tell the bald truth. "I told you all this before. Saren. Sovereign. The geth. The Reapers. We did what we could, and then it looked like we'd be able to get our asses in gear to prepare for more. I went into Spectre training, and Shepard went to fighting geth here, in the Terminus Systems. It's possible the Council knew what was going to happen and they sent her there to die. Or they didn't and just wanted her out of the way while they reorganized themselves. All I know is the _Normandy_ fell two years ago, and I wasn't there."

"When _Shepard_ fell off the radar for _another __mission_," she said bitterly, and her features turned hard. "She _abandoned_ you and yet you still let her put her _scent_ all over you."

"No." He clenched his jaw. Of course she'd smell Shepard on him at this distance. "She _didn__'__t_ start another mission. She honestly did… disappear, and no one was able to produce a good explanation as to why, or even a body." His breath left him in a sigh. He didn't want to remember all of this. "I don't know what happened next, exactly, but believe me, she didn't come out unscathed. I believe she must have just finished healing when I found her, and being transported in a cryo pod. She was in the warehouse district near the old base that the salvage goes through." The story as it stood sounded incredulous to his own ears, so he added, "We're not sure exactly how her, ah, _benefactors_ lost her to pirates, though."

Melanis went silent.

"Mel?" He wasn't sure if she was trying to mull over whether to believe him, or if she was trying to muster up the courage to slap him across the face.

"You… you came here to find Shepard? And you _found_ her?"

"Well…" He considered the question a moment, and what ramifications the answer would bring. "…Yes, I suppose I—"

Melanis choked and took back her hands to cover her trembling mandibles.

Garrus panicked. "I didn't mean to—"

"The two of you are mates straight out of an old Palaven fairy tale," she responded with a laugh even as her voice broke, "Even if she is a human. It's really no wonder I couldn't wedge in between that."

He rose to her level. "Shepard and I... it isn't like that. We aren't mates. We're just…" His voice trailed off.

Her mandibles were twitching with the effort of her smile. "I don't believe in destiny, but you two are as inevitable as a satellite fall." And then she escaped, flying out the door before he could catch her. It slid shut behind her and Garrus was left standing alone.

He eventually sat with a sigh and looked back onto the screen. It only took him a moment to remember what he was doing before he started up, again.

_Nikon Sensat was a damn fine soldier to fight alongside. My operation, being upon Omega and outside the Hierarchy, has no official bearing, but I will tell you of his honors. And of how he sacrificed his life for those of his brothers-in-arms. I want there to be little question that he was a great turian and a great man, worthy of all the respect he didn't think he deserved. And if I could back to do anything, anything at all, to keep me from writing this now, there would be little hesitation._

* * *

><p>The only thing between them and the shipping unit was a volus who was wisely not inclined to give them any interference whatsoever. In fact, he gave them manifests and full reign of the warehouse without putting up any fight whatsoever.<p>

They found it easily, as it was the only one in the warehouse stamped with a Cerberus symbol on one side and had a trail of bodies leading out the other, though it was still out of the way of the others enough that no one seemed to notice and do a clean-up since the day before. Th bodies were, for the most part, stiff and just starting to rank up the air with the putrid smell of decay. They were all mercs of various types and all seemed to die of gunshot wounds, but that wasn't even considered until they marched up to the cryogenic pod.

The empty cryogenic pod with a bullet lodged under its lid.

Miranda turned on the console and looked over the device's logs. "Two days since this was opened." She looked over to the opened lockers. "Her weapons and armor are gone, as well. Someone must have woken up the commander and she armed herself."

"A lot of ammo and medical supplies gone, too. Hard to say how much she took with her. She might even be out of here already."

"Let's hope not. Look around for clues. EDI," she called and held up a hand to her ear, "Sweep for information if you can about the nearby explosion. Report to me what you find."

"_Already underway, Operative Lawson."_

"Hello, what's this?" Jacob picked up a ripped-through wrapper for a protein bar. "Dextro-amino. Looks like some big teeth shred it up, too. Sure isn't _Shepard's_ trash, and none of these guys look like they would have had the time."

"A turian? Any leads, EDI?"

"_The explosions came from what was thought to be Archangel's base of operations. The three major mercenary players on Omega worked together to try to take it, but ended up taking many casualties when the bombs were set off. It is unknown if Archangel or any of his team has survived, however the sponsors are operating under the assumption that some have as the bombs appear to have been set off by Archangel."_

"Is it possible that Archangel or any of his team is turian?"

"_Archangel has been confirmed to be turian by some of the mercenary leaders."_

"Well, Shepard may have just made our mission a little easier on us," Miranda said, "Archangel is one of our dossiers for the new crew."

"Except this guy doesn't sound like the type that wants to be found."

* * *

><p>"Why is it I can walk through Omega slums with a full chit and carrying a drunk human slung across my shoulder, I don't even get a weird look," Vortash grumbled, "but when I'm walking with you, both of us <em>perfectly <em>_alert_ and _obviously_ able to defend, I have to kill five guys _minimum_ just to walk to a terminal?"

Shepard gave a shrug and nudged a body with her foot. "You're guess is as good as mine?"

"Is this common for you?"

"Pretty much."

The batarian made a snorting sound and slid a thumb across his face. "Anyone tell you you're bad luck?"

She kicked the dead merc and scanned over his equipment. Nothing useful that was worth carrying. "It's a good thing I don't believe in luck."

"I'm just glad we're getting out of here. I'll never get the stink of burning corpses out of my armor." He blinked his four eyes at her. "Archangel get to you about living quarters, yet?"

"Not yet." They stepped over the remaining ones and strode towards the front of the wards. "I've been meaning to ask… why _Archangel?_"

"You mean the name? From what I get, Garrus worked anonymously a while, then the humans on this rock thought up the name after he started saving them from getting killed and sold into slavery. I guess it stuck and he just took it as an alias… but he hardly goes by it." He gave a wry grin. "We kind of use it as a joke."

"Krul says Archangel almost exclusively."

"Krul is a krogan, and as far as he's concerned, Archangel is Archangel. He's not letting the conversation get any more complex than that."

_Shepard._

_Wrex._

She smiled at the memory. "I can get that." A notification sound clinked and she pulled up her omni-tool. "Ah, well, I guess I won't be joining you, after all. Looks like Garrus found a place."

Vortash leaned over her shoulder. "Those coordinates are… huh. Garrus has access to Erash's place? Guess it's as good as anything; the guy isn't using it." He shifted back and looked at her. "Are you going to be able to get there alone without being attacked?"

"I can take care of myself."

"You're still going to be attacked, aren't you."

"I'm not going to force you to come if you want to go take care of your, uh, aunt."

"Just because she's still a maiden doesn't mean I need to coddle her," he grumbled, "But I imagine we're going to have to rest up, anyway, while we have a chance. Garrus will want to get what he can done here on Omega before leaving with you sooner rather than later. After we start raiding bases, we aren't going to have a breather."

"I don't know if Garrus is coming with me, yet."

"He is," Vortash stated as a plain fact, "He wasn't about to say 'yes' in front of us when we just lost people. I hope you've got a pretty ship in port all picked out, because you two are going to have to run quick after we're done."

"I'll keep that in mind."

She found and entered the apartment without trouble. So little trouble, in fact, she brought out a pistol to sweep over the area as she entered. After the kind of week she'd been having, it wouldn't have surprised her if someone set up an ambush. But, no, it seems that Garrus instead got preoccupied before he could write new clearance codes for the door, because she could hear his voice engaged in conversation as she went down the hall. She lowered her gun and re-holstered it.

"I could bring up a link at the hospital if you like," a female turian voice said, "I'm sure she'd love to hear from you." For a moment, Shepard thought it was Melanis.

Garrus's voice came next. "I don't really see staying here for very long, Sol. Right now, I'm just staying at a friend's until I can get my transport out. My last day on the job will be tomorrow."

"Where will you be going, anyway?"

"Not too sure, yet."

"Garrus! Damnit, this is exactly the kind of brash behavior father complains about. You're seriously going to dump your job without anything else lined up?"

"It's not that I don't have something else after this… I just don't know exactly where it's going to take me."

"Well, isn't that just lackadaisical of you. Oh! Who's that?"

"Hmm?" He turned and choked on his own vocal chords when he saw Shepard. The turian on the screen laughed.

"She looks a lot like the vids I saw of your old human commander. Armed to the teeth and everything. She isn't an alien fling of yours, is she?"

"Sol!" he hissed and turned back to the screen, "I don't—we'll talk about this later!"

She laughed again. "Well, since you look busy, I'll leave you alone. And I'll give your love to mom. Make sure to see us soon, okay? Palaven's boring without you here to sprinkle gunpowder on everything."

"Sure. See ya, Sol." The vid transmission ended and he clenched his hands a moment before finally looking at Shepard and saying, "Ah, that was my sister, Solana. I thought I should give her one last message before tomorrow."

"I take it we're going to strike some merc bases."

"That's right. All three." He stood and started walking towards the wall that made the hall to the main room.

"That's a little ambitious… even for you, Garrus. What makes you think you can pull something like that off ?"

"Come on, Shepard. Don't tell me you haven't performed a simple missions like that."

"Sure, but I had more to work with than eight people max just with what they can carry. I'm no miracle worker."

"Says the woman who came back from the dead. Though, trust me, you have a few more resources than you think."

"Oh?"

"I was planning on doing the strikes soon, but I was worried that as soon as I struck one, the other two would board up and increase defenses as soon as they got word. I wasn't sure if I should just try to take out what I could and leave it to the others once I leave, or try to stay and take care of the whole mess personally first."

"Go on."

"I got a message back from someone in Erash's family. It wasn't very long, but I was puzzled by some nonsense at the end of the message. Turned out to be the password to his place, here. 'He never changed,' was the clue." He grinned wide. "I'm sure you remember that the bomb that took out my apartment and the surrounding area was set up by Erash?"

"Sure."

"Well, here's what we've got to work with." He reached out onto the side of the wall and pulled away what had turned out to be a blank slate canvas covering it, unveiling row after row of metal shelves, filled with explosive equipment from the floor up and fourty feet back to the door. Shepard's eyes bugged, and his smile just turned that much wider at the reaction. "Between one-hundred-fifty square meters of charges and your new love affair with that horrible cloaking unit, I don't think we'll have any trouble setting up a nice goodbye. Blast them up off the floor, and 'eight people max' would be plenty to cut down what didn't get flattened by the ceiling. What do you think?"

"You're insane."

"Of course."

"Mark a map where you want them. I'll get them set in two hours."

* * *

><p>He would have been fine with "I'll do it in the morning," but this way, at least, gave Garrus some incentive to get things done quickly. Messages went though that everyone should be ready to move into position in six hours (maximum, and that got a few shouts back at him, especially from Nalah on Butler's behalf). He went one one last supply run and then on a bit of a social call to Aria to "clear things through" about what he was doing (that was somewhat out of reluctance, but he figured if he pissed her off enough with the big boom he was going to make, she might close him and Shepard off of getting through the ports after they were done).<p>

Turns out Aria was just amused by the whole situation. _Archangel_ came to her, told her about how he was going to blow up some more of "her" Omega, and told her he was leaving right after. Hell, she even seemed to like the idea a little bit; the groups were getting "a little too uppity lately" and "could use a little humility". Somehow, he even ended up running an errand for her, but, hey, if a small favor could work in his favor at all, he'd take it.

The whole excursion either took longer than he thought, or Shepard did fast work. She had already returned when Garrus entered and was busy relaxing. And the mode of relaxation came in... taking a bath, using the large tub the salarian left behind in the apartment. Which was more than a little jarring because, other than the wall of bombs, there were no dividers whatsoever in the apartment. He swallowed and shifted his feet awkwardly.

Shepard, true to her form, didn't seem to give a damn that she was naked and displaying herself in a vat of warm, blush-colored bathwater. When he stopped in his tracks at the sight of her, she merely flipped herself over onto her stomach and propped her arms up on the side to have a good look at him, while he had to steel himself against the sight of her glorious backside on full display just under the soft ripples. "Wondered where you went. Everything's set up and ready to go when you are."

_You__ could__ say__ that__ again._ "I didn't think it'd be _that_ easy for you."

"The cloak makes everything immensely easier. Hey, I don't think you had a chance to wash up since yesterday. Want to join me?"

_Oh__ Spirits __yes! _He cringed at his own thoughts. "Uhh... didn't you already wash yourself this morning?"

"There's a huge bath here and there's been a kink in my right shoulder since I woke up," she said, "This thing has sensors to keep the water at a constant temperature. And massaging jets. And scents. Probably bubbles, too, but I haven't figured out all the controls. Why this guy had a goddamn jacuzzi on one side of the room and a little military cot in the other is _beyond_ my reasoning."

"It's a salarian thing, I think. Different idea luxuries when you don't sleep for more than an hour. And... I think I'll pass."

"Really?" She looked amused. "Don't tell me your _shy_. The turian military didn't have you guys sharing bathing facilities?"

"Sure, but they didn't include _aliens_."

"Yeah, well, neither does the Alliance, but we still had communal showers. I couldn't count the times Chakwas ambushed me in them on the _Normandy_ just to lecture me on my health. And you can't tell me you never saw a naked human before; C-Sec _had_ to have dealt with the occasional streaker."

He snorted at that. Humans were the most likely race on the Citadel to be lewd for the sake of being lewd. "Yeah, but those humans were strangers."

"It's different because you know me?" Her tone turned mock-incredulous, and the joviality dancing in her eyes spelled trouble for him. He had to suppress a shiver. "Just quit worrying and get in here. You can trust me."

_It__'__s__ myself__ I __can't __trust._ "I'm, ah, just going to…" _Get__ the __hell __out __before __I__ make __an__ idiot __of __myself? _It was quickly becoming too late for _that_.

She made a soft laugh and stood. "Fine. I'll get out and you take over. My bodysuit should be clean, anyway."

Worse! That was worse! Shepard's nude body, sight unhindered by the warbling waves, with droplets running down her flushed skin as her hips swayed in retreat put Garrus on high alert. And her bending over to dry her body with a fluffy towel down to her legs… He could see _everything_.Before he could stop himself, a growl escaped him. Her head flung back to him at the aggressive sound.

"Jesus, Garrus! What's that about? Do I look tasty or something?"

He groaned. _You __have __no __idea._ She wasn't even _trying_ to give him a show, yet here he was, almost clenching his claws to keep them from touching and doing forbidden things. "I'm just stressed. The waiting is always the worse part."

She rubbed the towel in her hair, then whipped her head and wrapped the cloth around herself. "Then relax and take a bath. You need it, anyway; you're covered in fatty soot from the fires in the slums. I'm sure it can get hot enough for you; those temperature controls have a wide range. Nearly boiled myself alive earlier."

"No, thanks."

"I can find something to occupy myself while you're in. I'll even leave for a bit if you want."

His mind had her walking through Omega alone, damp with only a towel keeping her smooth skin away from any would-be attackers. That was illogical; she always traveled in full armor and he knew that. But the notion didn't shake away. "Stay." His voice was husky. Damnit, why was his voice husky?

"_Okay_. So… are you taking a bath, or…"

And she wasn't going to drop it. He kept his expression as close to stone as he could muster while he worked the latches on his armor, mentally reciting every word of the C-Sec manual in a desperate attempt to make his lower plates shift back closed. Shepard, on the other hand, looked as genuinely unaffected as ever and chose to start fiddling with the controls to the over-large bathtub.

He was about done pulling off his own bodysuit when she barked a laugh. "Found the bubbles."


	8. Goldilocks

Disclaimer: Chapter one. We good about maturity? I'm just going to go ahead and assume "yes".

Did I mention how awesome my readers are? Because I hope you guys aren't getting tired of it. I'm happy that so many of you enjoy my story! And thank you so much for the reviews and the compliments! I'm even starting to get a little nervous; I hope the story continues to be as good as you guys say it already is. And if some certain content of this chapter is a little off for you, it should be easy to skip over just where it stops being awkward and over to where it starts getting frustrating.

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><p>Shepard kept the newly-discovered bubbles running without Garrus's permission as she moved towards his discarded clothes. This set-up seemed just fine for him, as he must have been eager to submerge himself as soon as he disrobed. She only gained a short glance at his naked form as it stalked across the floor and into the bath, but what she saw put the alien anatomy diagrams memorized during Alliance training to shame. His skin glimmered like steel, and his muscles either tapered in sleek patterns to his form or ended in sharp, deadly angles. He might as well be living armor, and that didn't even take into account the smooth, crisp grace of his walk.<p>

She deposited the clothes in the wash and rejoined him, sitting on the side and sliding her legs into the water just beside the controls. Garrus kept himself seated on the other side as he washed, using a bar of soap and rag she wasn't entirely sure where they had come from. It's possible he carried something for cleaning turian skin with him, though she entertained the notion a moment that maybe he used the same stuff he cleaned his armor with.

Shepard kicked a leg up, swishing up some churning water in a splash, not wanting to gawk at him and make him feel self-conscious. "How hot do you want it?"

His eyes took a quick glance up at her. "This, ehm... this is fine."

"I thought you'd like to raise the temperature and change the scent. Maybe you like it, but it seems a little silly to have a turian going onto the battlefield _literally_ smelling like roses." She brought a hand up to hold where her towel was tucked and shrugged. "Why don't you look at the controls and pick for yourself?"

Garrus hesitated a long moment before he rose from the area he was sitting… and not the whole way, Shepard noted. He was quite mindful to keep crouched, the bubbling water at about waist level. This struck Shepard as odd: turians kept their _boys downstairs_ behind some plates in the pelvic region, right? Even if he was being modest, it shouldn't matter.

He kept his attention on the controls with an observable amount of concentration, more than was necessary even for the most complicated household item. She leaned towards him. "The heat controls start with the dial display. If you press and hold, a box will appear for you to enter a specific temperature."

"Ah, thanks," he mumbled, and did just that. Shepard immediately felt the temperature of the water rise from pleasant and muscle-relaxing to damn near scalding. She yelped and pulled out her legs before she could stop herself.

He looked over at her in surprise for the sound, then let his mandibles flare in the most cocky turian grin she'd ever seen. "It isn't too hot for you, is it, Commander?"

She frowned at the challenge and returned her legs to the water. "I can take whatever you can, turian."

"I wouldn't bet on that," he rumbled, "You're not a turian."

"And _you're_ not a cyborg zombie," Shepard shot back, and before he could argue any further, she whisked off her towel and hopped in beside him, which would have made a bit of a splash had the water not already been swirling. Steam burst into her face and her skin screamed, but she clenched her fists and took in a breath of hot vapor.

Like a shot had been fired, Garrus stiffened and backed away, looking at her with wide, bewildered eyes. That motion was enough to distract her from the military drilling of her own flesh to shoot her eyes on him.

God, what was up with Garrus lately, anyway? His behavior was getting borderline bipolar. At one moment, he'll be every inch of the growly predator turians were told to be, stalking her movements with his eyes like she was some sort of prey item. A little odd for Garrus, but probably not too unusual for a turian. Then he'd turn as meek and seeking of escape as a caged rabbit, and she was the predator grinning down the bars.

Maybe this was his way of coping with the return of his commander while he, at the same time, was in command. This wasn't a very good theory; the moods came unexpectedly, instead of at any point when she might be challenging his position. Those periods, he seemed to actually enjoy the little clashes between them.

Then again, even though she felt she knew Garrus well, it wasn't like she knew _turians_. Most of them seemed to prefer being standoffish, at least as far as humans were concerned, so there wasn't much of a range of turian behaviors outside of Garrus for Shepard to examine a pool of experience from. From Garrus, she was able to gather that they had very similar temperament to humans, especially a human in the Alliance during that volatile period between promotions. This made perfect sense, considering how their class system worked.

At a loss of how to figure his mood, she sized him up as well as she could with half of him hidden under steam and bubbles. "You okay, Vakarian? I'm not offending you, am I?"

"_No..._" he drawled out with a strangled-sounding subharmonic, "You... I just didn't expect..." His voice slipped away into a growl/whine that further pointed out that predator/prey part he'd been unconsciously playing at.

Determined to get an answer, she marched forward, easily meeting him eye-to-eye with his stooped posture. He tried backing away further but quickly met the side of the tub. "Garrus, don't bullshit me, okay? If I'm doing something you don't like or I'm trampling all over your toes, you can tell me. You had a team and an operation at work here before I came to town. Fuck, you're all I have right now and I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"Of-of course not, Shepard, I..." He looked down-right tortured. Shepard pressed forward to question him further.

Right into something hard poking out in front of him.

She looked down automatically as Garrus made a slight grunt and tried to escape, retreating down into the water and off to the side. His mandibles were waving in and out in alarm.

"Oh," she muttered, suddenly feeling like a total asshole. This wasn't even _near_ the realm of what she was thinking. "I, uh, sorry, I didn't..."

"You don't have to apologize," he said, even though he was near neck-deep in water and staring at her like he was expecting a second and third head to pop out of her shoulders.

She chewed on a lip. She was walking around in the nude around him and it didn't even occur to her she was being a total cock-tease. Garrus, of all people, didn't deserve _that_. She gave a cough to clear her throat, steam whizzing past her face even as she adjusted to the heat. "I didn't know you were into humans." She meant that as a bit of a joke, but it came out flat.

"I'm not. I mean, I haven't been." He looked away, then back at her, then away again. "It isn't that you're human..."

His privacy was already way past violated and he was far from comfortable, now all worked up because Shepard wasn't aware she was flaunting her goods at him. She wasn't exactly versed on turian sexual behavior, either; some asari seemed they would be as happy to line up to play with her as much as (or even more than) most human men, but turians tended to only give her grudging respect, at the best. All she knew was a bit about their physiology, and even that knowledge seemed lacking with every glance she got of his body.

The heat continued to beat her face in what she could feel was an angry, red blush spreading across her body as it desperately tried to cool itself down. It certainly wasn't helping her keep a cool, clear head about this, because all she wanted to do was try to fix his current problem, and there was really only one way she could think of to do that.

Well, it wasn't like she had any other bright ideas. "Let me see."

There was that "just heard a shot" look, again. "W-what?"

She reached out underneath and slid a hand down his submerged chest, taking a moment to process just how she was going to do this. He jerked into the motion with a gasp, like her touch was bringing air into his lungs. "I said, _let me see_."

Garrus's breathing picked up more the farther her fingers crept down. She made sure to examine every plate, ridge, and bit of scarring her fingertips flowed across. In few moments, he did as he was ordered, pulling himself up against the lip of the bath to watch her hands as they approached...

Shepard blinked at the sight of his manhood.

The blue tinge wasn't unexpected, and neither was the size since turians weren't exactly a small race. But the shape... where most of his body looked like living armor, his cock looked like it was sculpted out of pulsing stone. Sweeping ridges rode along the shaft and peaked to meet in the middle towards the tip. Immensely curious, she ghosted her fingers down to explore its surface. This made him groan aloud, and when she slowly wrapped those same fingers around him and stroked, he hissed. "_Ssshepard..._"

It could have just been the steam, but something about the way he said her name really got to her. She started pumping him, looking up at his face to watch various facial expressions flittering anywhere between disbelief and desire. Any lustful, helpless utterance with his flanged voice was a direct tug onto her loins. When she bent over him, slickness not related to the soapy bathwater had her swelling folds rubbing against each other.

She was _really_ enjoying this. "Do you want me to stop?"

He was staring down at her with this unbelievably tender look, that gravelly purr in his chest playing at a constant, moderate volume. His mandibles worked, trying to will his mouth into making an answer, but there seemed to be a breakdown in communication with his facial muscles. It was hard to say what he was thinking at the moment, but she'd be damned if she stopped when his eyes were gazing on her like _that_.

Her head dipped and her tongue snaked out to slide up, tasting where the rose-scented water had dried along its length when she was rubbing him. He made another startled sound and growled out in warning. "Shepard... what are... you shouldn't..."

"Let's see if I'm _allergic_," she murmured against his flesh, then pressed her lips over one of his ridges. He moaned when she gave a soft suck. If he had any more protests, they were promptly forgotten when she took him into her mouth. Instead, he cried out, and his hands shot forward. He could have intended to push her away, but his fingers found better use in burying into her hair, talons scraping her scalp.

She didn't show any mercy, sucking hard, stroking fast, sliding her tongue along every crevice. It took a bit of watching him throwing his head back before she could catch Garrus's eyes with her own, but when she did, he made this wonderful whimper followed by a ripple throughout his hard body. He repeated her name in little breathless gasps, over and over. One hand ran down from her hair to cup her cheek and run a thumb along the corner of her filled lips.

Shepard was fidgeting under the water as she worked, sliding her thighs back and forth in a desperate attempt to give some relief to her bud. Between a voice like Garrus's calling out for her with desire and the hot, scented steam, she was more turned on than she'd ever been in her life. She considered solving this problem manually as she continued sucking her turian friend, but she enjoyed too much how his plates and cock twitched underneath her fingertips.

And now his groans were changing pitch and flanging in wide ranges. Was he close? She doubled the effort, wanting to taste him, to feel him cum down her throat. Her turian friend was about to blow a load in her mouth and she intended to drink down every last drop.

"_Garrus, do you copy?"_

Shepard stopped while the turian beneath her cringed. "No no no no," he growled to himself, "Not now. Any time but now."

"_Hey, Boss, you need to chime in. There's an emergency. Do you copy?"_ Monteague's voice crackled through the comm in their ear-buds. Garrus sighed and coaxed Shepard to pull away.

He pulled himself up and out of the bathtub, not bothering to dry before he ripped his omni-tool from the pile of blue armor. Shepard watched with interest; trampling through with that glistening, blue cock and frustration so thick she could taste it, he made for quite an image. It wasn't hard imagining pushing him down and impaling herself on that.

He fitted the omni-tool over his arm and activated the display. "There'd better be an orphanage on fire, because I swear to the highest rank of the Hierarchy if you interrupted me for something stupid..."

"_Well, if I caught you having sex, you ain't havin' it with our favorite turian gal, because she's running to invade Jaroth's base."_

"Wha—Why the _hell_ is she moving now? The strike isn't for hours!"

"_She didn't have much of a choice; when Vortash wasn't looking, Mierin went to pay him a personal visit to payback for what happened to Sensat. First one of us Vortash could get to was Mel before he ran after."_

"Fuck..." Garrus ran a hand over his fringe and scowled. "I guess we're starting early, then. The rest of you move to take Garm's hold. Shepard and I will go to Tarak."

"_You were banging Shepard? That's a—" _Garrus forcibly cut the line before Monty could give any of his opinion. By this time, Shepard had followed him out of the water and had started drying herself off.

"The galaxy never stops spinning, huh?" she said.

He gave her a smoldering look, then, with two broad steps, he took her in his arms. "We might be stopping here, but we're not done. Not by a long shot. While we're moving alone, if there's even one slim chance..."

She gave a half-smile at him. "Actually, we won't be alone."

"What do you mean?"

"I convinced Mordin to leave Omega with us, and while you were gone running errands, I had time to message him up and tell him to come with us in this little operation. You know, since we're likely going to need to run quick right after we're done. As soon as we get dressed, I'm going to give him a call to tell him the time's been moved up a little."

He gave her a long stare, then started chuckling. "I guess it's for the best. You're too used to this crap."

"Reapers and bases aren't going to blow up themselves. Let's get ready."

Garrus laughed a little more, but his smile faded. "Just... wait a minute," he mumbled. The arms that circled her tightened their hold and he seemed to want to say something further, but instead bowed his head towards her. The gesture was candid, and she felt Garrus was waiting for her to react, though she had no idea what he wanted of her or even what it was supposed to mean. Slowly, she mimicked his motions and bent her neck, lightly pressing her forehead against his.

That must have been what he was looking for, because he let out another purr and pressed back, letting his claws grip possessively into her soft flesh. "Okay. I think I can face a criminal or two, now."

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><p>"I assure you that this is not necessary," Miranda said with curt tones, looking at the batarian and his scanning software with a glare. The batarian didn't seem that much more pleased with her presence than she was with his.<p>

"You want to talk," Aria easily countered, "You get scanned."

The lights blinked away. "They're clean."

Aria regained her seat and looked on to the two Cerberus-clad humans before her, unable to keep an interested look from blooming over her blue-violet face. "Sure has been a strange few days. Some unlikely people have been coming across my steps one after the other. Now _Cerberus_ finally comes to pay me a visit."

Miranda chose to stay standing by Jacob and crossed her arms. Her weight shifted through her hips, as if demanding her own stature of dominance with her stance. "We're searching for Commander Shepard, and we have reason to believe she is somewhere on Omega."

Her smile didn't budge in the slightest. "You know, I think it's kind of funny. You rebuilt a Spectre for yourself with all the original materials, something that had to cost a lot of money and labor, materials that weren't too easy to procure, and yet you _still_ manage to lose your new toy before you even got it out of the box. I know there are a lot of people in the galaxy that would kill for their very own _Commander Shepard_, so I thought your little group would keep a little better hold of her."

"Trust me, this wasn't an outcome we were really that prepared for. Do you know where she is or not?"

"Shepard's made herself pretty active as soon as she got the chance. Curing plagues with one hand, slaughtering mercs with the other. It's actually pretty fun to watch. Nice to see someone around here that can actually shake shit up again. And she doesn't do it for justice or profit or even progress. Just action embodied, and lots of it. Like a force of nature. I can see how she gets that respect."

"Where is she?" She took a step forward with a threat in her muscles. Little points of blue flame licked off her arms as much by instinct as anything else. Guns came up and trained on her immediately, but Aria merely continued to sit with the same expression on her face.

"Fireworks and lots of blood… now with Cerberus agents!" Aria laughed and shook her head. "Commander Shepard is working with Archangel. Don't know why, don't care why. But Archangel is planning a big strike on all three of the big merc players here on Omega. The mercs are no skin off my nose; I just heard they've been getting a little cocky. And Archangel already promised me he'll fly off my rock as soon as he has the chance."

"Shepard's attacking a merc base?" Jacob scowled. "Blue Suns, Eclipse, Blood Pack… I've seen their activity and it's rare when they share the same room, let alone a base. How are they attacking all three?"

"You're right; they hate each other and they all have different bases, but, trust me, they're in alliance. To kill Archangel, specifically. Almost did the other day, but it looks like your Spectre burst herself out of the packaging just in time to turn the tables." She leaned her head back onto her cushioned couch. "Archangel's team is hitting all the bases, but if he's going to go anywhere _personally_, Tarak's the one that'll put up the biggest fight since he's the head of the alliance. Blue Suns. If he and Shepard are still enjoying each other's company, you'll find her there."

"Where's the base?" Miranda asked.

"Do I look like an information desk to you? Oh, but I'll give you a little piece of advice: watch for the explosions."

With that, Miranda turned quick on her heel and marched off, her thick, black hair flying behind her as she tensed up. Jacob took an easy job to regain his position beside her. "EDI, tell the crew we're going to have Shepard soon, but we might need to have the doctor and a quick shuttle-ride out ready."

"_Understood, Mr. Taylor."_

"_Wait, what?"_ Joker's voice cracked over the comm. _"You found Shepard? Hey! When are you guys going to go get her?"_

Jacob ignored the helmsman and looked over Miranda. Her features were tightly controlled in an attempt to stay in cold indifference, but instead still quivered with barely contained fury. He couldn't help but grin. "She seemed nice."

"Shut up."

He chuckled silently, chest shaking, and returned his attention to exiting the club in the brisk pace she set.

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><p><em>Three members of the team already on job, acting ahead of schedule and without orders from Archangel. Unexpected. Still, easy to understand. Mierin young for asari; still in maiden years. Difficulty with accepting death around her; perceives herself as root cause. Not uncommon among asari with batarian families. Batarians outside of official space usually in high-risk lifestyles. Violent deaths high in such environments.<em>

_May now become cause of some death. Unfortunate._

"You caught up on the situation, Mordin?" Shepard asked.

"Of course. Strikes on the lower side of Tarak's base, supplementary to explosive discharges. Then Shepard takes point in formation, runs in with sweep. Archangel and I lay suppressive, Shepard takes first chance at rear. Admirable plan. Economical use of numbers."

"If it works like it's supposed to, Tarak and everybody else will be dead in time for us to ride out before the day's fifth ring rotation," Garrus said, sliding the barrel of his rifle back into place from field check as they walked. "Problem is, where before that was guaranteed, now we have no damn clue just how much we can get away with. Nevermind we didn't have time to find a getaway vehicle."

Shepard continued to look unaffected. _Facial structure might as well be hard clay. _"We'll just have to take something from the Suns when we wipe them out."

Garrus wasn't so detached from the situation, emotionally, even though his helmet covered his expressions. "We can only play so much by ear, Shepard."

"Someone should have told that to Mierin before she flew off the handle. Or maybe her nephew. If he wasn't coddling her, we could have seen she wasn't fit and stopped this before it could happen."

The turian bristled with the need to defend his team. "And then what? How do we stop it? Do we lock her in her apartment until she's sane?"

"_I'm sorry_. I forgot that your team is untrained and without a real chain of command."

"You know what? You're right. I'm not leading a military operation, here. Official structures never even _touch_ the Terminus Systems unless they're sending a Spectre out to die."

"Is there something you're trying to say to me, Vakarian?"

Garrus's helmet turned towards her, and a frustrated sound filtered through his speakers. "I… Forget it. I can't argue with you right now, Shepard."

"Why not?"

"It's just... Could you _please_ put on your helmet?"

"They've already seen me with you without it, and I don't like how it hinders my peripheral vision."

"I know, but... it'd just be easier, you know?"

"Easier?" Finally, Shepard's face twisted up in a wry smirk.

"_All right_. It's kind of hard to concentrate on anything with my new appreciation for those lips. _There_."

She licked said lips at him. _Curious gesture._ The turian shivered. "_All's fair in love and war,_ goes the saying."

"Is _that_ fair? _That_ isn't fair." His groan was laced with mating harmonics. "You play dirty."

No other clues were necessary for Mordin. With this answer, he rounded on the human commander. "Dangerous behavior, Shepard! Turians based on dextro-amino acids. Human ingestion of tissue could provoke allergic reactions—"

"Anaphylactic shock, right!" she shot back, "Turians are made of auto-immune _poison!_ I _get_ it!"

Garrus rumbled. "If you would just wear the damn helmet, there'd be a lot of uncomfortable conversations we'd have avoided."

"What? You don't like safety lectures from salarians about the dangers of alien blowjobs."

"_Please_ stop talking. Especially about that. Snipers tend to be pretty useless without their eyes and you're making sure mine are glued to your mouth."

"And you were talking about having a _quickie_, earlier."

"That doesn't count. Anything said while you were dripping wet and dressed in a towel should be considered coerced evidence and thus entrapment."


	9. The Three Brothers

Disclaimer: Check chapter one.

I'm sorry it took so long to update! I don't know why, but it seems like I've had little time to put words down, and when I did, I wouldn't know what they should be. It was, as a whole, a difficult chapter to write. And also quite long. I hope you all enjoy it, though! There's still more to come, obviously. Don't worry about that!

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><p>Although Shepard lead the team, Garrus kept his ear to the comm. He was treated to Vortash's grousing as he berated his aunt between shots. Then Monty would chortle something in amusement, shout when something popped out on him that shouldn't have been there, and then give an exacerbated promise that, yes, he's okay, and everything here is under control where he is.<p>

This left Shepard to do what she does best; blaze through the fire of warfare with her own brand of heat and violence. The quick pace she kept no longer felt so quick and hectic even compared to a few hours ago. Though there was no change in her speed or execution at all, the three of them were more solid and had more clarity. Garrus was able to juggle orders, respond to Shepard, and strike out target after target without issue.

It would be easy to admit he loved it, or at least easier than it was to admit he loved Shepard herself.

There was still a little danger; he'd let his eyes gloss over more than he should with the recent memory of Shepard's sweet, sweet lips. It played over and over, returning little twinges in his coiled-yet-unsatisfied member beneath. It messed with his reaction time a little, but the renewed vigor to the rhythm counteracted it. And he wondered if, just a bit, the commander's performance was affected in the same way.

He had no real idea how she really felt about… him? Them? Spirits, he was just coming to terms with his own feelings; Shepard had two years and death to wrap her head around, first. When she was in his arms not an hour ago (everything has been moving so fast ever since Shepard came, hasn't it?), he wanted to say it aloud, to himself as well as her. Just in case something happened in this botched operation, he just wanted it out in the open. He tried to think of the proper words, but they wouldn't come to his mouth.

The move to bow his head towards hers seemed logical to him at first. It was a clear gesture and wasn't something he would have done for any woman, and he definitely wouldn't have done it without meaning it. But her pause scared him, and he remembered then that she, as a human, might not understand the turian gesture. She may have only returned the movement to placate him, but, hell, saying something in the wrong language was better than being silent.

Shepard's forehead was smooth, like the skin of her palm, and soft though he could feel the solid bone just beneath. What he would give to return go back to that instant, to pull her body against his and drag them both back into the water. And her eyes! She used them to trap his as she sucked with those amazing, plump lips. He wouldn't dare to look away, and yet every moment, he thought he was going to black out. He was being bombarded from groin up with sensations he'd never felt before, had difficulty comprehending except for their intensity.

And it was _Shepard_ pleasuring him in these... lewd and alien ways, yet she made each suck and lick a heartfelt expression. If that was the return for his bumbling into Shepard's sights, then no matter what awkwardness and embarrassment preceding, and even if Shepard didn't really feel the same as he did, he wouldn't trade it for anything in the galaxy.

He jerked out of his daydream again with a start as a target passed without harm through his sights. With an alarmed twitch, he rectified his mistake, hopefully before anyone else caught on, and went into another march to change positions before more could come in with suppressive fire. Balls of flame shot forward from Mordin, one after another, and Garrus had to commend Shepard's foresight in, once again, recruiting a valuable squad member.

If only he had _that_ skill down.

They entered through another room, and Shepard swept through fitfully, obviously unhappy with a large window to a room on the other side. It was an area they couldn't secure as easily as she'd like, and there was a door to the other side, making a two-front assault against them unfortunately very possible. Instead of dwelling on it, she kept her back to one wall and scooted along it towards the open door. She'd almost gotten to it when a couple armed Blue Suns lead the set out, forcing her to angle her march towards their side and laying down fire.

Their point went down easily, but they weren't the last to come through, and while Shepard was focused on them, that left her back completely open to the windowed room.

Garrus cursed and found some iffy cover between two crate corners, then looked over their back. Sure enough, one carrying a rifle ran in and set himself up for a shot. He thought about it for only a second before shot, and cursed again. And it was fucking safety glass, _of course_, so it didn't shatter into a million pieces. Instead, he only got a rippling break from the shot and a body that the next few mercs simply ignored while they piled in.

There were a good few take-downs Shepard had managed by the time she felt fire coming down onto her rear shields. They blinked away soon enough, and even as she moved to avoid more fire, she took damage. It didn't take much for her to be forced to shift away in her cloak and retreat.

He couldn't be sure where she reappeared, as he was trying to get as many in the wide spread as he could. Mordin was laying on heavy in the mean time, having to relinquish position after position due to a guy who came in with a rocket launcher, but was more than able to keep up with expert precision of his own. He pressed mostly towards that rocket launcher, leaving a lot open.

It took another shot to ring out from the sidelines, making an enemy fall outside of Mordin's sights, to calm Garrus down and figure out his commander's trajectory.

"Hell of a pincer they pulled off, huh?" he said into the comm.

"_That's one way to put it,"_ Shepard's voice came back in a wheeze.

"You sound rough. Need any medi-gel?"

"_Save it for later. There's still some foot distance to travel, and who knows what they'll have for us when we get past that door."_

"If that's how you want to play it. Just that the last thing we need is to have a dead Spectre on our hands, again."

She snorted into the audio link.

* * *

><p>"I'm fucking okay!" Monteague wailed, even as he bound his arm with wraps and medi-gel. Sounds of fierce fighting roared from the outside of the hidey-hole they had managed to acquire.<p>

"You need to tell the Boss, Monty," Butler grumbled solemnly, "This ain't a matter of pride, here. Shit hit the fan. No shame in it."

His eyes were very wild, but he seemed to be gritting his teeth to keep them straight. "The situation over here is still under control, damnit! Garrus doesn't need to know about every little scrape we get while he's busy with the Suns."

"Doesn't change that there are vorcha flooding through every turn as we move. It's just been a rush of teeth and claws accented with the occasional bull rush ever since we started. No matter what we do. Maybe if they didn't get word that we were coming…" He trailed off when a great, krogan bellow shook the walls. It shot their conversation dead a few seconds.

They listened to the raging battle outside, accented with the fading screeches and hisses of vorcha attacking and being ripped apart.

"It's not just that they got a warning," Monteague continued as if there were no pause whatsoever, "They're... Blood Pack, for fuckssake. They'd rush until we were dead, anyway. But I wasn't supposed to lead this team. Shit, I'm no leader." He sniffed idly at the blood dripping from his nose. "Vortash was supposed to be."

"Vortash is still leading in the Ecli—"

"_Shepard_ was supposed to lead that strike."

Butler gave a long pause, obviously unhappy that there was nothing he was going to be able to say. "A gaping stomach wound and a burned-to-the-crisp arm sure doesn't raise your spirits, does it?"

"We plan an already insane attack and Mierin flips out and screws up the day for everyone. Can't I be just a little bitter about my approaching doom?"

"Don't blame her. Fuck knows I wouldn't have faired any better if my wife had gotten killed." Butler leaned back onto his feet and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "This isn't the worst thing to happen on Omega. I mean... I don't even know where I'm going with this."

Monteague made another grunt as he resealed his armor as best he could, some of the compound hitting his still-raw meat beneath the plates. There were strict warnings along side the tube about contact with bare skin for most races, but a mild chemical burn seemed to be among the farthest of concerns at the moment. "Just tell me blaming Sidonis is still good."

"Go right ahead. He at least deserves that much."

Another krogan war-cry shook the halls, but this time it was joined by another, bigger one. The two men stood with some difficulty, looking in the direction of it.

"Time to go," Butler said.

"Yeah." Monty hacked a little and spat off to the side. "Everything clear from this point on?"

"Crystal."

They pulled out their guns and went forward. A few vorcha were in front of them, distracted by the battle of a lone krogan against everyone else, and made for easy pickings. They surveyed quickly what options were still clear, and threw themselves down just before the concussive force of the explosives flattened everything.

* * *

><p>The landscape of the strike had to change substantially as Vortash progressed forward. Mech after mech were easily brought under his control, but the fights pressed a lot longer than was originally hoped. It got progressively harder for his team to secure positions before being able to move forward. It was taking its toll on them.<p>

Rather than being a cooperative aid in the strike, the explosives had become a necessity. Even with the three of them, they weren't able to provide the constant, pressing fire-power as they moved forward that was needed. Melanis was the only one with anything approaching the necessary soldier stamina, and her laying down fire while he hacked as quickly as he could and Mierin threw down biotic powers one after another, it turned more haphazard than as coordinated as they were used to. Taking out whole swaths of Eclipse with the unexpected bombs was the only thing that seemed to keep the odds tipped well into their advantage.

He signaled for Mel to lay down suppressive from the right, forcing the mercs to take down cover towards the corridor at the end of the room. This would, hopefully, give him the bottleneck he was looking for, and that turned out exactly as hoped as more came out behind them. He tweaked a quick program to close the door behind them with a weak lock as a minor block. "Now!"

Mierin wailed a cry as she threw a warp at them, throwing them up and back and pinning them just were they wanted them. Vortash tapped to set off the next bomb. A rumble and a crash came, but no explosion erupted below those men like it was supposed to.

"What? Shit!" He shot to his shotgun and popped up. "Mel! Go heavy while they're pinned!"

She spared him only a quick glance before she did as she was ordered, and the three of them rained down on the cornered group. The hostiles fought back desperately, and though they were still slaughtered, it was not nearly as surgical as it should have been. Vortash took three slugs and the others didn't come out unscathed, either.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Mel cried afterwards as she shoved medi-gel into a new hole on her shoulder.

"It's not my fault. Bomb sixteen was supposed to go off right at that position," he grumbled, then pulled up his omni-tool to scan through the information. "Looks like that was bomb seventeen that went off. Garrus! Come in. There's an issue here."

"_What is it?"_

"Something switched up about bomb sixteen. The charge for seventeen went off, instead."

"_Any idea what happened there?"_

"None. I was hoping you might know."

There was only a short pause before another voice came on. It was Shepard, with labored breath accented with shots and screams. _"What's the issue?"_

"Seventeen went off instead of sixteen."

"_What? Damnit, that's right—" _Another few shots had to be fired between words, and then there was a slam of armor against some sort of bulkhead. _"I didn't have the chance say anything, but there was a security mech running through there, and my cloak couldn't last the long walk I'd have to take in the open to set it. It was skipped, and all charges have been moved up by one."_

"And you didn't think this was an important detail to include!" he shouted into the comm.

"_It shouldn't have been since I was supposed to lead that strike. I didn't know you were going that way until you already left."_

"_Shepard, wait—"_ Garrus's voice interrupted, _"If you didn't place it there, what did you do with it?"_

"_I found a wall that would go out easy further in. It'd take you right to their leader's nest. At least, that's what I was planning to do it, but..."_

"I need as much advantage as I can get, Shepard. We're barely struggling by, here."

"_The opening will be only good for as long as hostiles can't get to it and defend. If you had a cloak, you could move through them, set it off, and go in before they had the chance to react."_

"I don't have a cloak."

"_I know. Your only option would be to run in with the explosion itself as the cover."_

"_How the hell did you even come up with such an insane idea?" _Garrus's voice cracked in, again. _"Using the bomb you're taking out the wall in to get into the wall? Really?"_

"_It's possible. That's how I got this huge scar across my nose."_

"_You don't have that scar, anymore, Shepard! You don't even have wrinkles!"_

He chewed on his teeth. "What're the coordinates?"

"_Vortash!"_ Garrus said, _"You've seen what the force of those explosions can do. If it takes you out, then the whole maneuver she'd mentioned would be pointless! You'd be dying in vain!"_

"What are they?" he repeated.

"_I'll forward them to you. It's numbered as the last charge."_

"_Shepard!"_

"Anything is better than nothing, Garrus," Vortash said, then stopped communication, looking on to the two women who stared, one in confusion, the other in dawning horror. He didn't offer any words and gestured to keep going.

Mierin wasn't going to let it go at that. "I'll go into the blast when you set it off."

"No, you won't. And we aren't discussing this. Enemies to the right!" He dropped down into cover, but even the approaching gunfire and thundering mechs couldn't drown out his aunt's hysterical howl.

"Stop trying to protect me, damnit! These—these bastards have torn us apart... have torn Sensat apart... and you keep treating me like a child!"

It would have been so easy to shout back a retort to that. A maiden who has acted impulsively in a way that may kill more than a couple of them... but, damnit, she was all he had left in this galaxy, and when these might be the last words he could share with her, he just couldn't throw it back at her.

Instead, he blurted something nonsensical that he only figured old men in who had the time to get dementia said. "I was hoping you and Sensat would give me a little blue cousin to coddle and teach code."

Surprisingly, that did very well to knock out any more cries of the injustice of never being allowed to sacrifice, and he was happy for that. She hardly even could pull her head down out of enemy fire just for how dumbfounded she had been struck. Mel was similarly surprised, or horrified. She yapped out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

* * *

><p>Shepard got them up to Tarak's personal loft, and three sweeps told them it was empty.<p>

"Their leader is not present," Mordin chattered, "Perhaps ran?"

Shepard nodded. "Looks like it. Still, we've used up the explosives and I'm pretty sure they've got more guys coming. We might want to move."

"This place is pretty defensible, though," Garrus noted, "It seems a little odd to abandon a stronghold that would be used against them."

"There's a pretty big flaw right here," she said, nodding towards the large picture window. He settled to stand beside her as they looked out it.

"This loft is high, Shepard. There isn't much that..." His visor zoomed automatically at movement down behind another structure. A gunship. It slid out in its hover and went barreling towards them. "Damnit! I thought I took that thing out, already!"

Instantly, they all split off into cover. Shepard slammed her shoulder into a wall and switched over guns. "They're unloading troops!"

"Of course this glass isn't fucking safety glass," he growled, then took shots on those troops even as they dropped, piling them up to the point of falling out a long drop of the far window. Shepard made a sign to Mordin to take front towards another rush of Suns. He hopped up readily and brought supportive fire.

The mercs weren't much of an issue even with the surprise. Tarak's knowledge of them coming didn't make them any better against something as brutal as Shepard bearing down on them. The three of them were clearing them out quick, but when he left cover to move up, he quickly was reminded why killing everything so quickly could be just as bad.

"Archangel!"

Like how there was no reason Tarak didn't have to hold back on any bullets in his gunship. Metal hailed right at him, and he felt as much as saw the bullets as they took down his shields and made sparks on his armor. Lights seemed to flare around him and overwhelm him as he fell. He crawled towards what was probably Tarak's couch.

"You think you can screw with the Blue Suns!"

* * *

><p>"This ends now!"<p>

Shepard wasn't surprised when she felt the boom of a missile. She didn't have to be looking right at it to know what had happened. That didn't stop her from moving towards Garrus and within the radius of fire for that fucking gunship.

A glance in his direction told her that, yes, he was down.

It didn't help that there were still more hostiles shooting in from other ends of the loft. She barked an order at Mordin to keep pressing at them while she worked on whittling at the hovering bastard outside. She switched to a grenade launcher and started firing them one after another. That ran out quickly, so when he moved to another side, she went to a rifle and slammed in some disrupter ammo.

"Shepard! Enemies getting fewer!" she heard Mordin call, "Suspect support is coming from behind to help us!"

"Hopefully it's Garrus's men and not a group of opportunistic vultures." The rifle roared with every shot she managed. Finally, the gun seemed to seize up and she stood to slam down a steady stream. Tarak moved to get away, but instead could only shout as he seemed to drop from the sky.

Shepard couldn't spare a thought to make sure he fell to his death. She went to Garrus, and the pool of spreading blue blood slowed her approach. He was very still, so she moved to roll him over, to see how much damage he sustained and... and, he wasn't gone, right?

_Garrus can't die. That's ridiculous._

He was heavy. Dead weight and with all that armor. It was hard to move him, so she gripped hard at his armor and pulled. Maybe she shouldn't be moving him, but the way he just lay there was starting to make her panic. He didn't seem to be breathing. Was his heart beating? She had no way of telling his vital signs.

_You're not going to wake me up from the dead just to die yourself, Vakarian. I need you with me in this fight. I have nothing in this fucking galaxy to help me. You get your ass up off that floor. That's a goddamn order._

A ragged gasp ripped from him seemingly out of nowhere. He gripped blindly at his rifle as she attempted to roll him more towards her. That didn't seem like a wise idea, after all, because he started to choke on his blood as it ran down his throat. And his face... it wasn't that Shepard hadn't seen worse, but half of it didn't look like it was even there anymore. All she saw was meat and blood and something that looked like could have once been a mandible flexing painfully in his jaw.

That wasn't the worst part. It looked like a chunk of his skull was missing. She'd seen men survive a lot of shit, but that...

Even if she had enough time to get him to a clinic, what the hell could they do for him?

"Shepard."

"What is it, Mordin," she bit coldly, not wishing to entertain what might be the professor's well-meaning prattle. She looked up and saw, coming up beside him, two Cerberus officers. They were putting away their weapons as they approached, both looking square at Shepard.

Her eyes narrowed at them as she took them in, then realized that something was familiar about them. The woman. She'd seen the woman before. But...

"Commander Shepard," she said in a crisp Australian accent, "It took us a lot of work to find you, again. I'm glad to see you seem to be moving about just fine."

There was a vague memory. Beeping. Hard to breath. Talking. Shepard couldn't quite place it. Garrus made another gargle and she looked down again, gently trying to turn him to his other side as to not drown in his own blood. "I was wondering when Cerberus would finally show their faces."

"Trust me, we would have loved to get here, sooner," the woman returned coolly. The man, on the other hand, seemed to have a better sense of purpose in this situation and moved with Mordin by the wounded turian's side.

"This is Archangel?" He knelt down to get a better look. "He looks bad. We better hurry and get him out of here."

"_We?_" Shepard snapped. "What the hell makes you think that I'm going to do anything you say?"

The man had the good sense to look a little abashed, but the woman stepped forward with the clack of high heels. "We don't have time for this, Commander. If you want to help your turian friend, we have medical equipment on the ship."

"I don't know if you can tell, but this man has had a severe blow to his head." Shepard wasn't willing to stand down, especially with the only person she's got left having his life bartered around like a diplomatic trap. "Unless your ship has some pretty advanced stock and talent, I don't think risking the _drive_ will be worth it."

"If we can remake you out of what was left after atmospheric entry, I should hope we can keep a turian heart beating," the woman said.

Understanding dawned on Shepard. The vague dream, or memory, or whatever it was made sense, now. Her features hardened with resolution. "You build him from scratch if you have to. If he dies, even on the way, I'm holding you personally responsible. Is that clear?" Maybe that threat didn't mean much. Did she still have all the weight from her rank after death? Probably not.

"Right." The woman offered no more arguments turned away and tilted her head as she spoke in the comm. "We're going to need a pick-up at our position ay-sap. Medical personnel at the ready."

More sloshing oozed out of Garrus's throat. Shepard ran a hand down his mandible almost helplessly. "Just hang on, Garrus."

The hand that desperately had been gripping at his rifle let go. Her heart shuddered a moment before she saw him drag it slowly towards an ear.

Taking it as a signal, she turned on the signal to the frequency for the other teams.

"_-arrus? You damn idiot, I swear if you're dead—" _The batarian's voice was strained.

"Vortash? What's going on? Are you going to need help?"

"_Help? No."_ He laughed. _"Mel and Mierin are just fine, and the base is as dead as they can get. Your..."_ He wheezed. _"...Your trick did wonders, Shepard. Caught a damn lot of them off guard with that last bomb and cracked their house open like an egg."_ He started laughing a horrible, rasping laugh, and she wondered if it was a common sound for batarians or if he was more than tired. _"Butchers... know their shit."_

Another voice—Butler's—whined in like he was having difficulty finding the frequency. _"-nyone out there? I'm in a sea of bod... can't find... you, Vortash?"_

Shepard tightened a fist, seeing Garrus continue to pitifully struggle to talk. It was hard to tell if he knew at all what was going on. She hoped he didn't. "Vortash, send what you can to help mop up at the Blood Pack base."

Vortash's voice didn't come in anymore. Butler's warbling signal cut in and out, but it sounded like his voice was shaking violently. She watched as Garrus's hand returned to his rifle and pulled at the barrel with his gloved talons, trying to do something, anything. She hoped he didn't understand what she was about to do. That she would have to leave his men behind in order to save his life, because there was no damn way she was going to leave him alone with Cerberus like this.

She put a hand over his and squeezed, silently willing that, if he did understand what was happening, he'd understand her choice. "I'm sorry, Garrus."

* * *

><p>Tarak tried his best to not look like he was dragging himself into Afterlife, but there was only so much he could shrug off. His leg was broken, or at least had a fracture, because it screamed in pain from the depths of hell every time he tried to put weight on it. He was forced to hobble on one leg like a fool if he didn't want to cry with every step. And was there a piece of gunship jabbed into his side. Probably. Not much he could do about that, either. He had no medi-gel, and didn't fancy bleeding out among the carrion crawlers of Omega.<p>

Fucking Archangel. How was it that he had a goddamn answer to every angle? It almost worked, too. Getting to them through Sidonis had been a brilliant move, but he was still, somehow, able to recover alone. No, it wasn't alone. It was that human woman. That body-guard he must have picked up from hell itself, because she wasn't fucking normal. She was a freak of nature that didn't give a shit if a gunship was firing on her. She took bullets better than krogan took punches, and that made her officially more of a freak of nature than Garm. She reminded him a little of Jentha, the poor, dead bitch.

Well, Archangel wasn't the only one who could play the vengeance game.

The people in the club were giving him stares and wide berths. Maybe they didn't understand how the bouncer let such a scraggly guy past the door. Hell knows he probably looks like death warmed over with a flamethrower. But he's Tarak of the Blue Suns, damnit. He could gain entrance to this place even if he was naked and covered and filth. And still get an audience with Aria. Oh, yes.

Aria would agree with him. Archangel was something to be blotted from the map for good. There was no way even she would be able to lean back and pretend that this had nothing to do with her. The idealistic turian won't be satisfied until he's systematically killed every person in Omega for their sins. She would give him the rise back up to his feet he would need. Aria might be uncaring, but she was logical. The guards let him past without contest or even a glance, and that embolded him that much more.

"Aria, we have a problem," he said as strongly as possible, but he felt his strength draining even then.

She was turned away from him, faced towards the glowing pillar behind her throne like a king overlooking his lands. "You're right, Tarak. We do."

"Archangel has become a menace. A virus on Omega. And he's not going to stop until he's infected or killed everyone on this station. He needs to be stamped out now. Before his forces get any stronger. He's taken my base out, and I know he's struck Jaroth and Garm. It's only a matter of time..." He found his throat thickening, so he coughed to clear his throat. This was when he had time to realize that something was wrong with his situation. There was shuffling all around him. The guards that had passively let him trudge up the stairs uncontested had filed in behind him and flanked every side. Each readily-available gun Aria had immediately on hand was there, surrounding him. He tried to swallow whatever he managed to knock loose in his throat.

A boot came down on his broken leg, and he fell to his face with a pained cry. In no time, a knee had dug itself into his back, and there were multiple hands holding down his straining arms. He struggled to keep his head up, even after one of them slammed his face into the floor, to look at the asari.

She turned and approached slowly. "Maybe Archangel does infect people, here. He infects people with silly ideas of justice and honor. But that's just the thing, Tarak. Omega doesn't care about ideas. That was a lesson you seemed to not learn when you should have." Between steps, she kicked a datapad that had seemed to have been tossed carelessly to the floor across the room. It skidded to a halt right before his nose, and his four eyes strained at it. At first, he didn't understand what he was looking at, and then it dawned on him. He knew what he was seeing, and he knew those damning words it contained.

_"...to continue on to the next objective... to move on Aria..."_

A message between Jaroth and himself. A simple, thoughtless, condemning message. And she had found it.

"I don't need people to like me, Tarak. In fact, I want them to give me some practice." Her steps stopped right at the pad. He fought again to look up at her, and she made it a little easier for him by kneeling, looking down at his desperate face as if it amused her. "But I would hope they would have a little more common sense. You, Tarak, don't have any of that. There was only one little bit of common sense you needed to follow-" Her arms glowed she raised her palm over him. "-And you failed to remember it."

He knew what the last thing in his life he would hear was, even before she said it.

"Don't. Fuck. With Aria."


	10. Goosey Goosey Gander

Disclaimer: In chapter one. Let me reiterate: MATURITY.

This chapter was going to have a lot more story content, but then Shepard dragged Garrus upstairs. So, yeah, I'm sorry, but I guess plot is just gonna have to wait.

* * *

><p><em>Vortash did not look good in one of those greasy vendor aprons. He slammed his over-large knife down onto the cutting board as he chopped up what looked like a string of milky-white eyes.<em>

"_Butchers know their shit."_

* * *

><p>Garrus found himself awake and staring at a bright ceiling. He was aware of many things at once: his face felt like someone ripped it apart and then pieced it back together with a soldering iron, which translated roughly to "significantly worse than getting your face tattooed"; he smelled scents and heard sounds he'd attribute to a starship medical bay; the "rose" sent was gone.<p>

And so were his weapons and armor.

That was what shot up into a sitting position on the gurney. He scanned the area and found a large glass window behind him (which made him even more nervous after the last two glass death traps), and his brain scrambled on all the points trying to take in the situation. He was still compiling it in his head when the door opened with a swish.

"Awake already?" An older human female entered the room with a mildly baffled smile on her face. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised when considering how quickly you recovered from wounds before. Welcome aboard the _Normandy… _SR-2."

He blinked at her a couple times before he spoke. "Dr. Chakwas? What…" He looked around, then down to his lap, and back up at here. "I don't understand."

"Hopefully, that's just normal confusion." She moved up and started taking his vitals, inspecting the pain-ridden side of his face, et cetera. "Maybe it would be better if I answered your questions instead of stating everything that's happened from the time a rocket laid you out."

He spoke the first thing on his mind. "Where's Shepard?"

"The commander is currently on a mission. I'm not sure if you met Jacob, but he's accompanying her along with Dr. Solus."

"And... I'm on the _Normandy_?"

"The _Normandy SR-2_. This may be a little hard to swallow, Garrus, but this vessel was built by Cerberus. They... also brought the commander back to life."

"I know that part. I mean, I know that Cerberus brought her back, somehow. But why?"

"It seems that Cerberus, out of everyone, actually understands the Reaper threat and isn't just shoving it aside in favor of 'politics as usual'. I can't say I necessarily like it, but if they're willing to do something, and going about it like _this..._" She shrugged. "...Who can really argue?"

He went silent a moment. So Cerberus had the noblest reason to do a noble deed? What the hell did _that_ mean, then? And there were still so many holes between now and when he saw that gunship he couldn't wrap his head around this information. "Where are we? I mean, where is the ship right now?"

"I know we're by a planet..."

A cool voice chimed in along with the appearance of a blue hologram at a console nearby. "We are currently still in the Terminus systems, in orbit around a human colony named Freedom's Progress. Commander Shepard and her team are planet-side."

"Oh, it comes with a VI. Wonderful," Garrus muttered sarcastically.

"That would be incorrect. I am the _Normandy's_ artificial intelligence. The crew like to refer to me as EDI."

"The _Normandy's what_?"

"EDI, please," Chakwas admonished, "He already has quite a bit to consider without tangling with the concept of an AI on board."

"Understood. However, I have alerted one of our guests that Mr. Vakarian has regained consciousness and is awake. She is approaching now."

Just as the hologram blinked away, the doors opened again, and Garrus found himself with an armful of female turian.

"You're finally awake, you bastard!" she howled, bashing one fist over his shoulder.

"Melanis." He grunted and pried her off of him, but she seemed too busy laughing to be offended. And he found himself smiling in turn. Spirits, it was good to see she was okay. "Who else is here?"

"Just Mierin and Butler. Everyone else..." She shook her head and looked over him again. "Oof, that poor, pretty face. You look terrible, Boss."

"Right. That's exactly what I want to hear when I wake up. My face aside, what happened? What about the others? Vortash? They can't be-"

Melanis scowled. "I saw Vortash's body, myself. It was... I'm ashamed to admit, but a lot of it turned into a bit of a blur. I pulled the link right from Vortash's ear... because I wasn't sure I could find the channel. Even then, I couldn't make out anything except some snippets from Butler. Then... then, I heard this voice saying '_This is the _Normandy_. Anyone on this signal?_' Didn't recognize it, but I responded. Then, he says, '_Commander Shepard has ordered me to give you a pick up_.' Turns out he was the pilot to this ship, and the next thing we know, Omega and everything shitty thing on it is a memory."

"...Hell of a trip, huh?"

"You bet your ass," she said. Then she scanned her eyes over him. "It was weird, the first few hours. You were in emergency surgery so we couldn't see you. Mierin and Butler were still freaked out and didn't know how to react. And Shepard was in a meeting and couldn't be bothered." She snorted.

"You _did_ see her, eventually."

"Well, yeah, but not until after we were all herded over to a sleeping area. Solus came in first and explained everything that happened. He patched us up a little, advised us to get a shower and some rest, and kept us updated on your condition. By the time we saw Shepard, it had been literally _hours_, and she was already walking around like she owned the place. From what I understand, she _does_."

"She's commanding officer, huh?" He looked over to where Chakwas had been to confirm it, only to see that she must have left to offer the two some privacy. "That's… very convenient."

"Yeah. I thought the whole thing was suspicious, myself, but I haven't been able to get anyone to agree with me."

"I think they just have to act despite their suspicions."

She unhappily settled back at that. "That asshole pilot doesn't seem to think so. I mean, even if he has any suspicions, he's thrown them away all because of a _leather chair_. Except he doesn't seem to like that AI hanging over his shoulder any more than I do, so maybe he isn't _that_ naïve… _What_ are you looking for?"

"Clothes that isn't... _this_." He plucked at his hospital gown. "My armor, preferably. I want to go check up on Butler and Mierin."

Melanis's mandibles twitched in a show of discomfort. "I don't think that would be a..."

"Your equipment has been placed in the Main Battery, towards the bow from this position on this level of the ship," EDI supplied readily, "It is hoped that this would be your station on the _Normandy_ if you so choose to accept the position." Melanis turned to glare at the holographic sphere, but Garrus merely shrugged and left in the direction he was told to go.

He found it easily. The battery was sparse, but certainly quiet and out of the way. He'd have killed for this sort of workspace on other starships. But, still, what the AI just said gave Garrus some concerns, and he voiced them aloud. "What would Cerberus want to do with a turian as their gunnery officer..."

"Cerberus may be human-centric," the voice continued and it was so unexpected for Garrus, he jumped, "but there is no strict doctrine against working with aliens, and this operation demands some interspecies coordination."

"Does that thing follow us around, too?" Melanis cried.

Garrus gave his subordinate a flat look. "I don't remember inviting _you_ to come and watch as I changed, either."

"What? I've seen a nude male before." She grinned. "I've seen a nude _you_ before."

His mandibles clattered and he scowled. "Mel."

The AI wasn't offended or embarrassed by the exchange, and instead continued to supply pertinent information. "May I suggest you speak with Commander Shepard about any misgivings you have about this mission or your position? The shuttle is currently en route to the _Normandy_ and will be linking up in approximately five minutes."

That seemed to be enough for Garrus to stop caring about what eyes may or may be on him, and he quickly went to work slamming on his armor, piece by piece, latch by latch. Butler and Mierin would just have to wait.

"_Well_, the commander certainly has you moving," Melanis quipped, looking maybe a little too appreciatively at the movements.

"Hush, you," Garrus growled. She didn't hush, and insisted on staying right by his hip as he was directed to the CIC. He timed it well, because he was just striding up as Shepard entered in through the airlock with Solus and a human male. He smiled at the sight of her—spirits, something about her as the commanding officer of a ship just made her look perfect—and would have called out to her if the pilot hadn't turned in his chair and beaten him to it.

"Hey, Commander." Joker smiled broadly, and, at this point, Garrus couldn't even be a little shocked. Made perfect sense, come to think; it wouldn't be the _Normandy_ without him, and his... humor _would_ rub Melanis the wrong way. "You back already?"

"Quick and painful, like all my missions," Shepard returned with a roll in her shoulder. It was still bothering her? "What about our injured parties?"

"The asari is in therapy with Kelly, I think. Dunno what the married man is doing, though to be honest I've kinda been avoiding talking him. And Garrus, last I heard, wasn't looking good. Miranda and Chakwas say the cybernetics are pretty extensive and he probably won't be up for—"

"_Thank_ you, Joker." Garrus strode up as he interrupted. "I was wondering how I was going to have to butt into the conversation."

"Aw, geez, you're _already_ walking around?" Joker shook his head. "You know, most people take a damn break after they catch missiles with their teeth. Do you count that as unpaid leave or something?"

"You're a tough son of a bitch, Garrus, I'll give you that," the other human male at Shepard's side, most likely Jacob, said with a smile and crossing arms.

"I need to make a report to the Illusive Man," Shepard stated, but her commander stiff-lip melted a little to give Garrus a smile. "but, I think I have some time to clean up and talk, first. Walk with me, Garrus."

He was saddled up to her side already, like it was second nature. "Of course, Shepard. Mel, why don't you go on and check up on Butler? Sounds like he could use the company."

"Err, yeah, sure, Boss."

He and Shepard walked to the elevator together, though Garrus wasn't entirely sure where she was taking him. She said she was going to clean up, so... the captain's quarters, perhaps?

"You haven't seen Butler yet, I'm taking," Shepard said as she flew a couple fingers over the controls.

"Only woke up a bit ago, and then Mel sort of headed me off at the pass."

"She really seems to like you," Shepard stated matter-of-factly and stepped into the lift. Garrus followed readily and waited for the doors to shut. "But, I guess it's good you don't see him yet. He isn't injured, but he's a little rattled. Mierin is, too, but in a different way. If Chambers hasn't talking to one of them, she's been with the other."

"Chambers?"

"Yeoman Kelly Chambers. She's sort of a secretary-slash-psychiatrist for the ship. Cerberus probably hired her to be a personal therapist for me, but I'm not interested." The doors shut finally and the lift started a slow plodding upwards. She looked over at him and smiled. "I'm glad to see you up."

"_I'm_ glad this whole thing didn't turn out to be a dream." He gave a nervous chuckle and added, "I was a little afraid it was when I woke up and couldn't smell 'roses' anymore."

"That so?" Her voice dipped a little lower. "Well, if you like the scent so much, we can pick you up some perfume..."

"That's not really necess..." He trailed off as he felt fingertips ghost over his bandages.

"Does it hurt?" she asked softly. He suppressed a shiver and moved to look at her.

"Shepard..." She cupped his injured cheek and he grunted a little, but he couldn't help but to lean into her touch and flicker his mandible against her wrist. Yeah, it hurt like a bitch, but he wasn't going to flinch away from her when she was touching him like this.

"Miranda and Chakwas said it was touch-and-go for a bit, and I wasn't able to come see you. They said there'd be some scarring..." Her fingers drifted down and back behind his fringe. The ache from his face quickly faded and was overcome by the sensation of those multiple small appendages sliding up and down and around his sensitive spots. He stepped into her space and grasped her hip with a growl.

Not to be one-upped, she grabbed his ass and ground the codpiece of his armor against hers. "If anything," Shepard whispered into his ear as he ducked his head down by hers, "It makes you look hotter. Like the badass you are. I kept telling myself if Chakwas didn't immediately release you when you recovered..." Her hands gripped him tighter. "...I was going to sneak in there while you and everyone else was asleep and just... _ride_ you awake."

So, that's how she was going to play? The elevator's doors slid open again, and Garrus, not caring what this level was or who might be on it, roared and pulled her up against him as he dragged her across. He slammed her up against the door and, as one hand searched for the green panel, Shepard busied herself by using that soft, wet, and oh-so-versatile mouth of hers to kiss and lick across his wounds, which was soothing and erotic and he almost dropped her and fell after when he finally got that door open.

He was surprised he could find the bed, because it felt like it might as well be on the opposite side of the galaxy for how many meters away it was. He threw Shepard on the bed and went immediately to work unlatching the seals. In attempt to keep her distracted, Garrus took a shot in the dark and leaned in to do a long drag of his tongue up her neck. The payout was a shudder and a breathy gasp he'd never heard from her before, and, spirits, did he want to hear more of it.

His hips jerked by instinct and slammed into hers. It made Shepard give up a yelp, but he reprimanded himself for letting himself get worked up. No, after what happened last time, he was going to make sure he got Shepard right where he wanted her. He pulled away ceramic plate after ceramic plate. She tried to counteract by having her quick, dexterous fingers find his seals, but he quickly recaptured her wrists and pinned them down. Then he slowly, carefully, bit down into the fabric of her collar and pulled down. The zipping fastener slid down with his movements, and soon he had her bodysuit opened like the rind of a fruit to her soft, vulnerable flesh.

He could see the air flutter in and out under her ribcage as she breathed. So, he put his tongue and teeth to her there, as well, licking and nibbling up and down and, oh, she likes that. He finds himself a little surprised at how soft those mounds on her chest are against his face, but he can't let go of her hands in order to test them out with his own fingers. So, he examines them with his mouth, and she makes these little alarmed sounds when his teeth scrape her breast. The little nubs that dot the center tighten under his eyes, and, curiously, he moves up to bring one into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and rolling it between his teeth. Her sounds turned into delightful mewling

The smell of her arousal was getting stronger. Humans and other levo-based creatures didn't have a pleasing smell where some turians were concerned (Mel could be quoted as saying some smelled like if stones could rot), but he _wanted_ Shepard's scent all over him. And he wanted his scent to rub off and permeate into her skin, marking her as his. Maybe that unreasonable, but he couldn't remember wanting anything so much in his life as that.

He followed her scent down to her secret place, and though he had to relinquish his hold on her wrists, he scratched in lines down her arms and her lovely, supportive waist. Shepard's hands came down with them, but when he settled before her folds, her fingers intertwined into his fringe, again. She sure as hell knew how to get him _going_. His tongue dipped into her and tasted the essence of her strong, musky scent. Very strong, and salty, and...

"Garrus!"

He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes in preparation to taste her, but he opened them to see her watching him, one of those wonderful lips caught in her teeth and a hand squeezing her own breast—so he was right there—and he couldn't help but keep looking as he slid in another long lick. And then another. She heaved with each one, and a couple of the strokes seemed to jerk her spine into an arc like he had applied a live wire. He had her exactly where he needed her.

Perfect.

He went down on her ruthlessly. Within seconds, he had her writhing and crying out loud... Oh, wow, she was a _screamer_. He didn't expect that. And she was squirming so much he had to grab her hips to keep her still as he mapped out every fold. So very soft and wet... he found a hooded apex that, when pressure was applied, caused that tight, live-wire reaction. He took that into his mouth, having it slide under the upper corner of his mouth as his tongue rolled in and out of her hole. She bucked into him as if he was already fucking her.

He got an idea, and deciding it was better now than later, he slid one of his gloved talons over her. It took very little contact to get drenched with fluids. Slowly, carefully, he wormed a finger into her little asshole. It rose her voice up into another squeal and she beat against him frantically. He rumbled in pleasure at how he was getting her worked up. "You like when both your holes are filled, Commander?"

"Sh...shut up and..." Her voice broke off into another cry. "Garrus!"

Spirits, did he love hearing her call out his name like that. He knew that when he sank himself into her and fucked her until she cums screaming his name, he'll have a hard time topping that delicious sensation during his lifetime. But that day was not going to be today, for when her breaths came harder and more frantic in airy, whimpering pants, he pulled away.

The shout she was just working herself into dropped off into a confused whine. She pulled herself up on her shaking elbows and stared incredulously at him. Her red little mouth was plump and gaping open and her face was colored red in either arousal or indignation. Maybe both. "What... why'd you stop..."

"Just a little bit of payback," he rumbled, "For all that teasing along the way to the merc base."

"_What?_" she hissed, "I wasn't the one that interrupted us!"

"Yes, but you were the one that kept talking without a helmet. Really, Commander, we had a job to do."

She took a breath and rose up onto her knees before him, rising up like a snake as her bodysuit fell off her body like a shed skin. The shaking reduced, but it was still there. "You want me, Vakarian."

"There's no argument there," he said darkly, "But I want to make sure that the feeling is _definitely_ mutual."

She slowly moved closer to him, eyes on him like a predator. Next thing he knew, he was on his back upon the bed. It bounced and gave under him, and there was Shepard, perched over him with hungry eyes, he weight bearing down through her arms onto his shoulders. He couldn't help the growl that came from him. She was much smaller than he was, physically, but he had no doubt that if he tried to throw her slight weight, she could react accordingly.

"Would you _really_ stop me?" she said in that smoky voice. She leaned closer.

Ah. Leave it her to find a good counter-argument.

"Commander, I am sorry to interrupt—"

Shepard flew up and glared at the blue ball that appeared. Garrus had to choke back a laugh.

"-but you are still due to report to the Illusive Man. Mr. Vakarian also was not cleared by the doctors and require him to report for more examinations. It may be unwise to perform any activities that could exacerbate anything that requires more attention."

She turned her glare back to Garrus, who only offered a sheepish grin from where he lay.

"Fine," she muttered and stood, "I need a long shower, anyway, it looks like."

He chuckled as she left into the bathroom in the corner, then gazed up at the ceiling to enjoy the giddy feeling in his chest.

And nearly have a heart-attack when he saw the window above her bed.

Garrus scrambled up into a sitting position, his head still tilted up. A window? Above where the commander sleeps? Did they _want_ her to get killed? Maybe it was the two glass incidents still fresh in his mind from the run before, but, damnit, that's a structural weakness right in the captain's quarters. How the hell was he going to rest easy knowing that she was just one translucent pane away from being spaced... _again?_

In the dark glass, he could easily see his reflection. For the first time since he woke up, he saw the scarring and glowing implants glaring at him, mocking him. Mel wasn't kidding; he looked horrendous. A turian woman would probably look away in disgust, and calling home through a vid-link was out of the question. Sol would freak out, then she'd insist on showing Mom, and then he'd hear her moan over how her poor son will _never_ get a mate, now.

He hadn't even seen Mierin or Butler. Fuck, by the sound of it, they weren't faring very well from the attack, either. He ignored that two of his men might need his support... ignored that he should be mourning three more dead... and instead went to eat out his human commander like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Garrus?"

His eyes shot down to Shepard. She was staring at him from the door. Why hadn't he heard that slide open again.

"You okay?" She sounded concerned. "You hadn't left yet and it looks like you've just been sitting there."

"Ah, yeah," he stood, feeling awkward all of the sudden. She was still naked, and now it felt like he had no right to see that. "I just... Everything sort of hit me at once. I'll be fine." He moved towards the door, perhaps a little too fast.

A small hand grabbed his arm and jerked him back, "Hey, wait a sec."

The other hand came up behind his head, again, and pulled him down towards her. His heart stopped and his breath caught. But instead of what he was expecting, Shepard tilted her head up towards him and placed her mouth upon his. Oh... he'd seen asari and other races do this. Mierin did it more than once to Sensat. He pressed back and opened his mouth a little like he'd seen. Her tongue darted in and swirled by his teeth and over his tongue. He responded as best he could, moving his mouth against her lips and chasing her tongue with his. She made a little moan and pulled back.

"I like how I taste on you," she said in that low voice, and he felt his plates heat up all over again at that. "You get checked out by the docs. And be sure to tell them you ingested some levo, okay? I don't want anything happening to you just because of some wrong-handed proteins."

"Right away, Shepard."


	11. The Peasant in Heaven

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

Holy crap.  
>101 reviews, 3 C2s, 65 Favs, 99 Alerts, over 16,000 hits. That is <em>crazy<em>. I'm averaging more than a click for every third word I write, ten reviews a chapter, and… wow. Just working out the whatever-per-whatever (because that's how I get my jollies when I'm not rereading the reviews over and over again)… it just blows my mind. My god. Have I mentioned how awesome all of you are? Because you are! I can hardly fathom my writing being this popular, but, if I'm on average getting a review for less than 400 words (which is already 100 words less than most short school essays), then obviously I must be doing something right.  
>Thank you all so much! I feel so spoiled by all the attention and praise. I hope my story continues to entertain you, because apparently I have a lot of expectations to perform up to!<p>

* * *

><p>"Collectors," Shepard mumbled to herself again. Before she helped Mordin out with the plague in Omega, she'd never really heard of them before outside of some footnote in a codex. But, since then, she's found that they were the instigators behind a lot of problems for humans since she was KIA, and likely, according to what they have found at Freedom's Progress, were some sort of agent for the Reapers.<p>

At least, Cerberus and the Illusive Man seemed to think so. He might not be a terribly agreeable man, but Shepard could recognize a competent head-of-command when she saw one, and he counted. Though _Semper Fi_ was probably never going to die from her bones, he was the type that appreciated results, and if he was going to treat the Reaper threat for what it really was, she could definitely learn to work with him. But she didn't have to be happy as she left the quantum-entanglement link to mull over her next course of action. He may have easily commended her for speeding up the mission by recruiting Mordin and Garrus, but a reminder hung low in his voice that "the other three" _weren't_ cleared by him to be on the ship.

Not that she would have put Mierin or Butler in active duty any time soon. Mierin had already proven herself to be too unstable, and Butler was recovering from an extreme situation. Melanis seemed to be taking what happened well, but she had an insubordinate streak towards Shepard. Without Garrus, she wouldn't even consider bringing Mel with her on any missions.

Shepard closed her eyes and rubbed her temples after she found she couldn't read the messages on the terminal in front of her. Too much had been happening the past few days. Garrus, the Collectors, Omega, Cerberus, Tali at Freedom's Progress... It was getting too much to take. Two years was too much backlog along with all these recent matters to catch up on. She hadn't felt this overwhelmed since she was in N7 training.

God, that felt like a lifetime ago. Then again, it was a lifetime ago, wasn't it?

"Commander?" a voice chirped cheerfully from the side.

She stared dully at Chambers, correcting the tired sneer as soon as she realized she was doing it. "What is it, Yeoman?"

Chambers faltered at Shepard's cut tone. "You just seemed a little out of sorts."

"Our guests would benefit more from your interest."

"I just finished a session. They just need some time to adjust and come to terms with what happened. But, if you need to talk..."

"I'm fine," Shepard clipped and stood straight. "All I need is to catch up on some sleep."

"Have you not been sleeping well?"

Shepard gave her a blank look. Yeah, talking about her sleeping habits sure sounded like a good way to rest. "My quarters are more than adequate."

"That's not what I—"

"Yeoman," she barked. Kelly stiffened in mock-attention. "I'll come to you if I require your counsel. Understood?"

"Y-yes. I'm sorry, Commander." Kelly shrank. "I didn't mean to come across as pressuring you."

Shepard frowned, but it was more at herself than Chambers. "No offense taken. I'll be retiring, so unless you have anything to report…"

"Nothing, Commander. Sleep well."

The elevator was close enough that Shepard wouldn't have to suffer any other unfortunate conversations, but as soon as the doors closed, she found herself at a loss as to where to go. Sure, she said she was going to go back to her room, but the thought of slipping into those sheets after they were so frumpled by Garrus and his horrible, horrible teasing with that magnificent tongue seemed... unsatisfactory.

God, Garrus. He was one of the few people she wasn't snapping at on this ship. True, her attitude has always been that way, but she felt she was automatically more hostile on the ship. Perhaps it was because it wasn't a military vessel, and she simply wasn't used to the (comparatively) laid-back behavior. It would explain why she was coming to like Jacob easily, but Miranda and her borderline insubordinate behavior grated on her nerves. But Garrus, he knew how she ran. He knew how to work with her and how to keep up with her demands. And, well, maybe he was able to keep up with more demands than just what was strictly for the mission.

She put in the command to go down a level instead of up, then strolled out with not much of an idea of what to do. Checking with the crew in general didn't seem like a bad idea. Checking with Garrus didn't, either, but he turned a little weird towards the end of their encounter earlier. He did have a lot on his plate, still, so maybe some distance would help. But it didn't make it any less tempting to march right into wherever he was and demand he finished what he started.

Was oral sex even a _thing _with turians? She couldn't imagine too many blow jobs with those mouths, but the women might still get to enjoy some long, muscular tongue every once in a while, and Garrus seemed... _very_ skilled at it, species aside. Melanis would probably know how common it was. Shepard let herself have a little grin as she imagined what the turian woman's response would be to such a question.

"Looks like you have something on your mind, Commander."

Shepard looked over at Jacob, who was currently eating a big plate of whatever it was Gardner had cooked up. She lifted a brow at the volume of his meal, and he shrugged. "Biotics, you know."

"I'm sure you need the extra fuel to keep in shape," she quipped. He gave a chuckle and, with a sideways nod of his head, invited her to sit with him.

She ended up sipping a coffee as he ate with gusto, if only to stay occupied. He glanced up from time to time, usually as he was vigorously cutting through something to make it into more manageable bites. "Findin' the _Normandy_ alright?"

"More or less." Shepard kept a non-commited tone to her voice. "I can't exactly turn it down even if I hated it, could I?"

"It is a bit of an 'offer you can't refuse', I'll give you that," he said, "And the reports say you don't go out of your way to be friendly."

"Are you trying to say I'm being abrasive, Mr. Taylor?"

"Don't mean anything by it, Commander."

"Well, you'd be right." She crinkled her nose, supposedly at her cup, and leaned towards him. "I never go out of my way to be agreeable. Especially not when I have a job to do. That was fine in the Alliance, but this is not an Alliance vessel, is it?"

Jacob gave a little grin. "And here I was afraid you wouldn't be able to get along with Miranda."

"I don't like her very much, either," she said flatly, "Not as an XO on my ship. She's young and business minded. I'm not a business person, Jacob. I'm a soldier, and I need other soldiers."

"For what it's worth, Miranda is a capable biotic and versatile combatant as well. I can say that with complete confidence. But, if it's her mindset that bothers you… I can't say I have anything to assuage you there, Commander. You aren't the only former Alliance on this ship, though."

An interested spark lifted up her brows, and she knew it showed. "I thought you were, Jacob. Care telling me how you ended up here?"

He leaned back slightly, as if considering, then ultimately crossed his arms. "Not that it's too personal or that I'm offended, but I didn't mean to turn this into an 'open-up and share yourself with others' thing. I'm not much for these talks."

Shepard's eyes widened, and before she could keep it, barked a laugh, which turned into full knee-slapping guffaw. "I've—I've never had someone say that to me, before, especially regular squad!" She kept laughing. "It's always angst and problems and then a polite shuffle-offs."

"You don't sound disappointed." He wasn't angry, but he did look out-of-sorts at the reaction.

"_Hell no_. Someone who can still fight proper _and_ knows how to keep himself to himself…" Her laugh calmed to a wide grin. "…That's a breath of fresh air."

Jacob grinned and shook his head. "You're alright in my book, Shepard."

* * *

><p>"Surreal" was a good word to describe Garrus's entire first day on the <em>Normandy<em>, and that wasn't just for the awakening. No, it just sort of snowballed down from that point, a new, even crazier thing coming to light as soon as he was wrapping his head around one.

As the elevator descended back to the third level, he gave a hardly-thought-about "thank you" to EDI almost as a personal joke, trying to keep his mind on what to say to Butler and Mierin, when the AI responded, assuming he opened up _conversation_.

"I have a question, Mr. Vakarian, if I may inquire." No blue ball popped into the elevator, but her voice rang out distinctly enough.

"Uh, sure."

"Was the commander being inappropriate in her behavior towards you?"

When Garrus was in C-Sec, he wished that once, just once, someone would be drinking some coffee when this sort of thing was said. Even if it ended up being him with the coffee, he wanted to have at least one classic "spit-take" in his life. And this was just one of the many times he wished he was sipping a mug, and had to make due choking on his own spit and sputtering in confusion. "…What? No! No, she, uh… I was the one who started the-the behavior." _Sort of._ Shepard was the one that dragged him up there in the first place. "I mean, I was being as inappropriate in that case."

"That is where I have conflicting data. You were actively engaged with the commander until you expressed desire to stop. I interfered at that point with the reminder of your appointment in the medical bay, but I am unsure if there should be a complaint filed on your behalf. She is, after all, your commanding officer, and it is possible that you felt obligation."

"No! No complaints!" Garrus groaned and leaned back. "And it has nothing to do with obligations. It was… perfectly mutual."

"She expressed that she knew you wouldn't 'stop her'."

"That's because she knows I…" He dropped off and shook his head. "This whole thing should be off-record, anyway!"

"Nothing is 'off-record' aboard the ship. However, I understand; no complaint will be filed. Logging you out."

That was more time for a conversation than an elevator ride down two levels should have taken. One awkward conversation with the doctor and some blood-letting for allergy tests later, he was ready to go on the search for the rest of his team that had managed to make it to the ship. It didn't take much searching; he found Butler in a room not far down from where the medical bay was, sitting on a bed and staring at something two-thousand yards ahead.

The wall in front of Butler was only a couple meters away.

"How you holding up?" Garrus managed without even a little bit of a croaking sound he expected.

Butler jerked, but he caught himself from jumping and managed to look over at the speaker calmly. "Uh, hey, Boss. Yeah… I'm holding up alright."

"Just making sure. I heard you had a rough time."

"It was no evening out with the missus, I'll give you that much," he muttered, then gave a half-shrug that made him look like he was swallowing something bitter, "Speaking of which, she's worried sick. But, uh, happy I'm alive, I guess."

"At least you have that," Garrus said, and moved to sit on another bunk nearby, but Butler started shifting uncomfortably. He opted to stay standing, in case the man was worried for the extended company. "Think you could give me a briefing on the mission?"

"Hmm. That is my job, now, isn't it?" He settled his weight through an elbow on the opposite knee from Garrus and looked up at him. "Not good at it, though. To put it as clear as I can make it, we got overwhelmed pretty early. I don't know what you planned originally, but, with the three of us, the Blood Pack was less a pack as it was a swarm. We were fucked, Monty knew it, and he wasn't really hiding it, you have to give him that.

"He sent out Krul to do what he does best, and then worked on getting the waves near the devices all at once. The trouble wasn't that it was like herding cats; there were so many, they would flow like water where they could. It was that he knew that detonating everything at once was in no way going to end well. He knew, though, that Krul would get to Garm and most of them would be concentrated there. The longer Krul could keep him fighting, the more would be gathered in detonation zones. He held off as long as he could until he was sure Krul fell, and then everything went off."

"That… has to be an exaggeration," Garrus said, "Not to cheapen what happened, but I know how much was supposed to go off. Not every bomb could have gone off at once and you still be here alive."

"Well, it wasn't every bomb, I guess. He tried to go by the plan starting out, and no doubt a few of them had to have been disarmed or something by the time we got there. Still, I'm just lucky; a krogan fell on me and managed not to flatten what was left of my body when the force hit us. He took all the pretty concussion damage. All I got was some ringing in my ears. Made it hard to find the signal."

"No sign of Monteague or Krul?"

"Like I said, Krul was already dead when he set them off. As for Monty... well, he was near the center of the blast and I knew it, and that radius was full-clean for several meters. Other than that, all I saw were bodies. Lots... just... just a sea of bodies. None of them moving except for one vorcha twitching with a broken back. Don't know if it was dead. Don't want to know. I was walking around feeling like heavy chime balls were rolling back and forth in my head. More like stumbling around than walking. My boots were covered in something black and viscous and I chucked them before anyone could tell me what it was."

He looked close to disconnecting at the memory, like his eyes had to go back and check over that sea of bodies one more time, but he caught himself and ran a hand through his short hair and shrugged. "I'll feel a lot better when I can get Nalah off Omega."

"I'm sure, but it must kill you to have to give your home up like that because of me."

"A place is a place, Boss. I... I'm gonna miss people there, but a lot of the people close to me are now dead or on this ship, I guess. And anywhere Nalah is makes home for me."

The door opened with a swish, announcing in Mierin and Melanis. Mierin had tremendous dark circles under her eyes and generally listless. Melanis was as bright and full of vigor as usual, though her mood tweaked a little as she waved her mandibles in and out a little at her scent of Garrus. Garrus who smelled quite a bit like his commander. He expected a comment about it, but she turned and chose to move to a bunk, instead.

"Good to finally see you, Mierin," Garrus rumbled softly, genially.

Mierin looked to have trouble looking Garrus in the eye, and instead sighed and rubbed at her neck. She frowned and moved with a quirk her joints easily identified as being caused by aches and pains, although how many of those were from physical causes would be a guess at this point. "...Sir."

"How are you feeling?"

"I have been crying into one person's arms after another." She made a sour look at nothing in particular and added, "I think I really have just been waiting for someone to yell at me for getting everyone killed."

"Hey, now. Not everyone is dead. All things considered, we might have been better off this way than the other."

"You don't know that," she sighed, "And you're not going to yell at me. Mel won't yell at me. Shepard won't yell at me, though it's pretty clear she thinks I should be put away for a while. Vortash would yell at me, if he were here."

"Mierin, come on," Melanis cut in, "Just take a rest. You look dead on your feet."

"If I'm not complaining, I'm sleeping. I'm sick of it." She looked at the other female. "Of course, you're perfectly fine. The perfect soldier without mistakes, and you're already ready to go again. Even more so with Shepard. I feel like a slug between the two of you." She found a bunk for herself and climbed it quickly. "One of those ugly laurmian slugs that weep sticky slime and wail when the wind picks up."

Garrus was at a loss for what to say. He knew how turians took situations like the one they just experienced, but it was a different matter entirely with asari and humans. He suddenly felt completely out of his depth; not only would he be unable to help most of his remaining men, but if something were to happen to Shepard (her death catching up to her, the beacons, a day in the life of a Spectre), he'd be equally as incapable to do anything. "You're not going to bed now, are you?"

"No. I... I don't know. It's just hard to keep focused." Her legs swept up and she slid her body down them almost as an afterthought. "I'll try to find... something to do."

Garrus took his leave quickly, feeling the thick awkwardness between Butler and Mierin, not to mention the piercing and very-much-judgemental eyes of Melanis. He quickly found himself shut up in his new station—the Main Battery—and was knee-deep in doing schematics and taking a look on how most efficiently calibrations would need to be done (ah, yes, no manuals... because "fuck you", apparently—well, that was just fine, since he already had a better idea of what to do with this gun than what the builders installed) when he had his last terrible conversation of the day.

Yeoman Kelly Chambers was the bubbly sort of personality that made him hate working with certain aliens. She struck him as over-eager to get to her job, and a little too willing to hear everyone's life stories. Those were suspicious qualities when encountered in humans, even if she was a therapist. That didn't make her any less good at her job; if only to end the conversation quickly, Garrus found himself answering every question and going into every detail about his fucked life with detail and fluidity.

He tried to steer it away, towards Shepard, towards Butler, towards Mierin. She didn't deflect his attempts to derail, but rather answered clearly any concerns he had. Melanis was stressed but working through it just fine, and should be fine for duty immediately as long as Shepard is fine with it. Mierin needed time and structure to adjust, something she might not be able to find on this ship due to its demanding mission. Butler was showing classic signs of Combat Stress Reaction, which could last up to five months before it fades. Or he could have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which would likely never go away and they'd only really know he had it if he simply didn't recover in five months.

She seemed most intrigued by his interest in Shepard. There were some edging at guesses, which he considered sputtering off if it weren't for the fact he was one-hundred-percent sure that the AI gave her a report of what happened upstairs.

"I'm not worried about the commander," he headed her off before she could ask any more questions, "She's more than enough capable of handling anything that comes by her."

"Of course," she smiled and turned towards the exit, "I hope you don't mind I do a brief report to her later about you. It's required for every member of this ship that I keep her updated on their condition if it affects the mission."

Spirits, she liked to play _matchmaker_, too. And that's when Garrus finally let die the idea that he'd have a chance to rest a little on the new _Normandy_.

* * *

><p>I always know when it's been too long since my last update when dannybates reminds me. Thanks, danny!<p> 


	12. Tatterhood

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

Aaaand the newest installment of the game is out. To be honest, I didn't really expect for this story to get as long as it has gotten. Then again, I'm not entirely sure how long I was expecting this story to run. On top of that, I'm not entirely sure if I'll ever even get to play ME3, because my system just RRODed and I can't afford the game.

My apologies for updates getting so slow, recently; I've been looking for a new job since my current one pays crap, and my car just got hit-and-runned while it was parked. Yeah, my life is _awesome_.

* * *

><p>The second mission to retrieve the krogan scientist had some interesting results, not the least of which was the death of the scientist, followed by the acquisition of his experiment. The experiment was currently lumbering around in cargo, perhaps looking at the new dings her pistol made on his baby-fresh armor. Or considering great krogan philosopher-warriors. Or chewing on a teething toy. Whatever it is a vat-grown krogan does with his time.<p>

Miranda Lawson was exactly as effective of a fighter as she was touted to be. Perhaps that made her a little harder to hate for her position, but it still was preferable knowing that there were a few capable biotics on her team. Her distaste for the XO reached past her demeanor and her business-like mindset to the fact that she _simply wasn't Navigator Pressly_, who fell along with her on the ship two years ago. A different ship with the same name was easy to get over, because even with the AI there was still Joker at the helm. But Pressly was a man who earned her trust as a fellow soldier over time. He was stodgy in the most endearing way that only an aged military lifer could pull off.

When she took command two years ago, he took her position, and he had already gained her confidence by then. So, yes, the assurance that Lawson actually _did_ have some competence made Shepard feel a lot better about the whole mission, because _someone_ needed to run things behind her while she worked, and Pressly just wasn't coming back.

But what Shepard learned from the mission was valuable about her new XO: Miranda had strong biotics and did, indeed, know what she was doing on the battlefield. She didn't even give Shepard any lip and followed orders accordingly. And she meshed well with Jacob, so even if she could work with no one else, Shepard wouldn't mind doing some extra missions with Taylor if it meant using any required expertise from Miranda.

Really, she wouldn't mind extra missions with him for any reason.

They ended up talking a little more on the shuttle down to Korlus, and along with learning a little more about him, it ended up being one of the least stressful times she'd spent with another person since she woke up. Even Garrus ended up being more stressful than she bargained for due to his team and the revelation that he gets hard-ons directly related to her. Not that the hard-ons were bad in and of themselves, but, god, the context and the timing were just unfortunate, which ties into his team more often than it should. There was no "sit back and enjoy" with Garrus, even though his voice seemed like the perfect addition to any form of relaxation, and it wasn't for a lack of trying.

Still, there's no harm in the trying, right? And she might even have a good mission-related excuse to bug him if he was having second thoughts and feeling uncomfortable about anything they had done or were doing. Without much more decision necessary, she strolled straight into his new post in the Main Battery.

Oh, well, and there he was, lying on the floor in front of the opened column of the terminal, literally buried head-first into his work on the guns. Something about the hardware to the console must of not been to his liking, as he was grumbling something under his breath. From the snips, it sounded like he was disconnecting some hardwiring.

His legs shifted and he seemed to still be completely unaware of the commander. That suited her just fine; it was better to alert him herself.

* * *

><p>Before Garrus even realized it, the commander had gone off on another mission, and again without him. That really shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did; the commander always kept fluid team rotations, had to learn the weaknesses and strengths of squad-mates she didn't already test the mettle of with hellfire, and it wasn't like she was going to die if he wasn't on her team. Besides, he had work to do, fixing these screwed up guns with only some rudimentary manuals from the extranet for something that was as close as he was going to get in schematics. It was taking way longer than it should just to get this thing <em>set up <em>so he could run proper calibrations; he was _seriously_ going to have to ask for some diagrams when he got around to upgrading it.

Still, it seemed like there was far too much being left unsaid between him and Shepard. Seeking her out to talk to her seemed selfish in the light of everything that had happened this past week, but letting the whole thing grow cold… That wouldn't be an issue if he went with her on every mission, but it didn't look like she was going to do that.

Meanwhile, his surviving team had come to the conclusion that they could barge in on him in the Main Battery any time they pleased. Well, that wasn't exactly fair; he encouraged them to come in whenever they wished, but they did tend to abuse that a little more than was comfortable. Especially Melanis. Melanis came in frequently, apparently uncomfortable with all the humans around her and wanting to complain with a fellow turian about all these human things. Mostly EDI. Or the women's bathrooms that stank of rotted blood. Or how EDI nag her when she tried to use the men's bathroom, instead.

Not that he couldn't sympathize, but Garrus had quite a few things on his mind that were not Melanis or any of her observations. He came to pretending to ignore her and continue working as she came in and talked to him. Sometimes he might quip a line at an opportune moment, or give a grunt in acknowledgement, but she seemed happy just to have something turian-shaped to talk at.

Once again, the doors opened, and he kept his head in the column of the terminal where it already was. His mind kept on the work, so he didn't really catch if the person said anything or what they were doing… until a pair of small hands pressed around his waist.

"Wha…" He nearly banged his head on the bulkhead above him, but managed to pull himself out to look at what was happening. And there was the commander, kneeling over him from between his legs and smirking with such self-satisfaction.

"Hello, there."

He stiffened under her grasp. "Uhh, _hey_."

"You look busy."

Garrus knew that tone. And he knew the proper answer was something along the lines of "not so busy that I can't…" or "I am _now_" with a hand sliding up her towards her waist. Instead, he deflected. "How was the mission?"

She leaned back onto her heels. "Nothing ever goes as planned, but we made it work out."

"You did most of the working, I'm sure," he said.

"I wouldn't say that. Miranda turned out to be everything she claims, and Jacob's _fantastic_." She gave a little scoff, apparently blind to how that last bit made Garrus freeze up.

"You brought Jacob with you, again?"

"Yeah." She tilted her head at him. "You seemed to have a lot of your plate."

"Never so busy that I couldn't join you. You know I'll always make time on your order, Commander." He regretted that almost as soon as he said it, because he saw the change in Shepard's eyes and the pull on her lips (those _damn_ lips!) into a mischievous smirk.

"Mind if I test that?" And her voice matched.

Lust slithered through him, making him shudder. "Shepard..."

She leaned forward and her face disappeared into his collar. He wondered if he should ask what she was doing until those lips dragged across the skin of his neck, up into just under his chin. Moist, puckered lips, teeth when she would nibble every once in a while, a wet little tongue quickly following the teeth… his plates were soon well-shifted and he didn't even realize that his hands had come up to grab her until he felt himself squeezing her ass.

And what a wonderful ass it was, a part of him had to note. She must have enjoyed his appreciation according to the way she slid her hips over his armored crotch.

Yes, she was fantastic, but every wonderful feeling was mirrored by a growing sense of guilt. It was a horrible battle of wills in his head and Shepard's beautiful mouth and deepening scent was making for a difficult battleground. He had to muster up everything he had to bring his hands to her shoulders and push her away. "_S-stop, Shepard._"

He had trouble looking at her face for the first couple seconds, so he wasn't sure what sort of expression she had before he saw the blank, unreadable one. Whether or not she was surprised or offended or even relieved, at this moment, she was considering the best way to respond.

"I thought…" she started, then closed her mouth before talking again. "I'll bring you out next time. And Melanis, so I'll let you decide if you want to give her the order or not."

"Yeah." His throat constricted in on itself and made it hard to talk. "I mean… _you_ should tell her. She needs to get used to you being leader."

She gave a curt nod and didn't leave any hesitation before she began to rise. "I should go."

As her body heat left with her, Garrus felt a sudden bout of panic. He grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her back down, forcing a whoop of air out of Shepard's lungs when her chest hit his.

"Garrus?" The confusion on her face was new. He really did catch her by surprise.

"Let's talk later, okay? After the next mission. I'll come up to your room and… explain."

She recoiled a little bit and her expression soured. "It's not necessary for you to explain anything."

His heart gave heavy beats; he would have been charged with excitement if it weren't for a strange, withering feeling he felt from his gut. It told him that if he let her get up... if he let that door close behind her… he'd somehow lose a chance at something that _might_ just go right.

And, _by the spirit of the Hierarchy,_ did he want something to go right. He carefully, delicately nuzzled into the hair near her ear, imagining this whole situation falling apart around him if he said or did the wrong thing. He heaved out a sigh and he felt Shepard's deceptively soft flesh quiver a little bit against him. "I'm just a little overwhelmed at the moment and… you deserve better than having me while I'm nervous and confused."

"I can bring a different team with me if you need more time. I just thought you might like to see Purgatory up close." Her voice was low and her curtness was underwritten by understanding.

He decided he didn't like that. "You won't get rid of me that easily. Besides, going into a corrupt prison run by the Blue Suns? Sounds like a perfect place for a date to me."

"You _would_ think that," she said with a grin, and Garrus found himself grinning stupidly back at her as relief washed over him. "Okay, fine," she said, "Report to the CIC fifteen before ETA. And, when we get back, we'll have a nice, long discussion over tea and cake or… whatever it is turians eat."

"I'll be there twenty before."

"As always." And then she leaned forward again, pressing her mouth upon his. He had a better grasp of what he was doing this time and his tongue slid into her mouth. He was even able to relax a little bit and enjoy it this time, not just engrossed in trying to perform the action properly. She hummed a little bit and pulled herself closer to him, sliding her fingers up under the base of his fringe to encourage him to do the same. And he took that encouragement heartily.

He could appreciate her taste this time. Clean, slick in texture, a little bitter in a way that reminded him of the smell of the coffee humans drank. Wanting to taste more, taste deeper, he slid his tongue further until he felt Shepard trap him in her mouth and give a soft suck. It was light, but enough to make a tug straight from his lower plates. He started growling.

She pulled back from him again, this time with a satisfied-yet-evil smile, and his growl rumbled into a louder volume for a few seconds before dying back down again. She stood away from him to take her leave, and he allowed it this time, though he let his gloved talons scour down her body. He could see her muscles rolling underneath her clothes in their wake.

No more words were spared as she stepped away though the doors. He let his mandibles stretch and fall, smug in this little victory.

* * *

><p>Truth be told, Melanis didn't expect Shepard to come barreling into the barracks area and order her to attend the mission. In fact, she was even suspicious of it at first. She didn't have the same clearances as Mordin or Garrus, didn't have much experience in military operations (her work with Garrus not-withstanding). And, frankly, she wasn't sure if Shepard trusted her in a unit with missions that, as the lore surrounding her implied, made most of what she performed in Omega look like playing games in the dirt.<p>

But Melanis came to understand very quickly back on Omega that the Commander was not someone you said "no" to. And maybe Shepard expected her to try, because she seemed mildly surprised when a sputtered (_obviously_ out of astonishment and not fear) "of course, Commander" managed to come out of her mouth. Thinking on it after her preliminary briefing and dismissal, Melanis thought about it and made some sense from the decision: unlike many people on the ship, she was able-bodied and trained, and one extra combatant against the non-combatant population was better than one less. And she wasn't even going to question the order, because she felt like she was suffocating on the Normandy. Between all the humans, her two friends still coping, and Garrus being constantly at work, she was going stir-crazy with cabin fever.

The mission on the prison ark didn't sound like something that demanded having an entourage, though. Sure, having someone with you is never bad, but, honestly, this was just a quick in-and-out. And where safety could be a concern on Omega, Purgatory was a _maximum security prison_. That should be the least of concerns on such a trip.

Maybe by this point, she should realize how Shepard operates. When the Blue Suns guard that met them demanded their weapons, Shepard set a bead on his head and overtly threatened him. Apparently, it was just the sort of thing Garrus was expecting from his commander, because his rifle was up in tandem with hers, but Melanis herself almost fumbled with her piece.

She bit back a curse as she adjusted her grip, raging in her head about the situation. _What the hell is wrong with you, Shepard? Are you really threatening to get us all killed because a guy in _prison security _asked you for your guns?_

"Everyone stand down!" Another man walked into the hold, a tall turian with a seasoned, curt voice and cracked plates to match. Still, though his maturity showed, his gait was still confident and smooth. "Commander, I'm Warden Kuril." He locked eyes with Shepard before raking his eyes over her and Garrus. "I wasn't aware you… _employed_ so many turians as mercenaries."

"And they're just as unlikely to surrender their equipment as I am," she returned. Mel silently disagreed, but wasn't about to talk against her crazy superior.

"Your weapons will be returned on the way out. You must realize this is just a standard procedure."

"It's not happening."

A long pause that seemed to last for an hour in Mel's perspective weighed down in the bay. Both parties seemed immutable in their position, creating that sort of tension could only break with a firefight in her experience. Damned if she was going to let on that she was shaken, but if they ever got out of here alive, she was going to be in a constant rage on Shepard's insanity until she got herself and Garrus off that stupid, terrorist-cell ship.

"Let them proceed." It was the warden who broke first, then proceeded to show them to where they needed to go with something of a minor tour of the place. As he spoke, continuing with his smooth, professional speech as if that claw-clenching atmosphere never happened, even as Mel felt as if she was untangling her own guts as he went into the performance capabilities of the prison and its cells.

She was so caught up in calming down, she almost missed it when the warden posed a question directly to her in the midst of the tour. "You seem quite young to be out of the military and working as a mercenary at your age. I assume from your lack of marks you're from outside the Hierarchy?"

In response, Melanis made a start, then bristled automatically. "I don't see where you get off about it. You're as barefaced as I am."

"My birthplace is Palaven, actually. I was even in law enforcement at the capital until I got tired of watching dangerous criminals skirt right outside of my hands," Kuril returned easily without any offense, though his mandibles extended a little into a grin, "My marks have simply faded over the years and I had never had them reapplied. The question was purely out of curiosity."

"A cop from Palaven that got tired of the system and went for a different method," Garrus mused, "Can't say I like the armor décor, but the sentiment I understand well enough."

" I thought I recognized that face paint from somewhere. I _had_ wondered how it came for two turians to work under a human commander within a human organization, but I didn't wish to appear to be passing judgment." The warden turned and continued walking. "If you'll come this way."


	13. Rapunzel

Disclaimer: Chapter one, yo.

I'm happy you're all still enjoying the story, despite my slackened pace. And thanks for the well-wishes and advice; the 360 managed to fix itself (technology!), some of my car was easily fixed without the need for going to a mechanic, and I even got a raise at my full-time job and starting another part-time one, soon. I went out and bought ME3 to celebrate, and I've already finished it (it was overall awesome, ending a little silly, though).

Seriously, are you guys _gods_? Because if these chapters are offerings, I might just have to get back on a frequent schedule just for the good karma I'm apparently getting. I'm still knocking on wood, though.

* * *

><p>Melanis never wanted to go to prison.<p>

Sure, not all prisons were like Purgatory, but prison culture was past the point of "uncomfortable" and straight into the realm of "abhorrent". It was a place where you were one among killers of dozens, where a guard could beat and torture you for any reason, and, no matter what happened, it was _your fault_. Watching your back was one thing on Omega, where you had at least some semblance of control, but in a place where the point was to put you at every disadvantage, it was a whole other reality.

And the mere thought of being stored in a frozen can like a hunk of meat didn't settle well with her. The whole operation was too sterile and too claustrophobic.

Shepard, on the other hand, didn't seem even remotely fazed. Even when Kuril described the "package" they were here to pick up as "the meanest handful of violence and hate" he'd ever encountered, she didn't bat an eyelash. Neither did she show any change when confronted with torture or the conversation with an unassuming, soft-spoken man that admitted to blowing up a habitat.

"I don't like this set-up, Shepard," Garrus grumbled in a low tone. His eyes kept sweeping from wall to wall, glinting from behind his ever-present blue visor as the soft glow of schematics and other data scrolled past. At least _he_ was reacting like a person should. "This may be a prison, but the way Kuril runs it is sounding more and more like a slave market."

"With a very specific type of clientele," Shepard said, "I guess the ends justifies the means for him. But, you might be onto something, there. A former cop getting involved with mercs... I guess it doesn't take much for corruption."

Her comment—even though she might not have meant it that way—got Melanis up and hissing before she could stop herself. She turned on the human and growled. "Trying to say something, Shepard?"

Shepard only turned her head and gave her an odd look, but Garrus grabbed Melanis by the joint of her elbow and squeezed hard into the vulnerable area within the armor, glaring cold at her with both of his piercing, blue eyes.

"Don't be insubordinate to the commander during a mission," he ordered.

Her mandibles flared and fluttered. She felt like she was stabbed in the chest. Garrus _rarely_ used that voice. It was a tone used when someone disregarded orders and jeopardized the lives of the others on a mission. She'd seen others crumble under his deserved ire, but her? She wasn't some alien with a loose moral code. She always followed his order without fail, and to have him snap like that… "I didn't mean…" She glanced over at Shepard, who had her arms crossed and was watching impassively. "My apologies, Commander."

"We should get going," was the human's only response before turning and going back into a march, and Garrus went back into formation as if nothing had happened. Mel, on the other hand, seethed under her plates at the both of them.

What the hell was she get yelled at, for? The only thing on this stupid mission that posed a threat was Shepard's stubborn ass. If there was someone that should be admonished for her mouth, it should have been the commander.

* * *

><p>"<em>My apologies, Shepard. You're more valuable as a prisoner than a customer."<em>

Garrus wanted to grunt an "I knew it" as soon as Kuril's voice came down from the intercom. Maybe he didn't _exactly_ expect this, but there was no way this whole thing was going to go down as smoothly as it was supposed to. Simply put, they never had luck like that.

"_Drop your weapons and proceed into this open cell. You will not be harmed."_ A slight pause came before he continued, _"Your companions would not have to join you providing they also relinquish their firearms and surrender."_

"Strange addendum to come from a two-bit slave trader," Shepard groused.

"_I can't imagine that working with Cerberus would do very well for a young woman or a man from Palaven, even if their commander had been the first human Spectre. Working with me, Blue Sun affiliation aside, would be much more advantageous to them."_

Garrus was about to give a response to that when he heard Mel's guns hiss as she brought them out. He turned at her in surprise, heart skipping the smallest of beats. _Surely, she wouldn't…_

"I am _fucking tired_ of everyone assuming that I'm some dishonorable, insubordinate _idiot_. What the hell do I have to do to prove I'm just as turian as the rest of you? Get a big rank in the Hierarchy? Slap on some tattoos?" She aimed her sights at the intercom speaker above them. "Well, _fine!_ Maybe I'll just scribble some pictures on my face with your _blood_, you _fucking prick!_"

"_Activate syste-!"_ The voice buzzed out with the explosion caused by the slug in her shotgun. Garrus couldn't help but beam in pride.

"Seems you were looking for an excuse to say that for a while," he purred in her direction.

"Boss, _sir_, all due respect, shut your ass-scarred face."

"Ass-scarred?" he cried with mock indignation as he put sights on the oncoming enemy. He took out three with the assault and holding back to switch to sniper.

One nice thing about this sort of battleground: there wasn't a ridiculous amount of _breakable_ _glass_ at every other corner in a prison. That and Kuril was pretty unlikely to have a gunship, though various mechs and other battleground advantages for the home-team was an absolute _given_. Still, with Shepard leading, well… it was a little hard for him to feel like his usual, pessimistic self the whole time.

It didn't take much longer for Kuril to summon in more guards to throw at them, so progress through the corridors were about typical, all things considered. When they reached the controls for security, Shepard took down the human at the console she needed to set Jack (and the rest of the prisoners) loose without preamble, even as he radioed through their arrival.

The form strapped up in the cryo chamber she released was… not what he expected. Shepard was small compared to him, but Jack was even tinier. It took him a moment to determine that the markings decorating her body wasn't some strange body suit but extensive and diverse tattoos. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

Neither did Melanis, apparently. "That's… Jack? _That's_ the fearsome biotic the people here keep harping about?"

Like a shot, the small woman woke up and made quick work of her steel restraints. That made Garrus automatically step backwards, as she didn't look nearly strong enough to perform something like that. But it was made all too clear where her strength came from as the YMIR Mechs powered on and surrounded her. With a barbarian yalp, she launched herself forward, summoned dark blue energy from her arms, and charged right into one of the mechanical behemoths.

The resulting shockwave shook the room, and even he had to admit to being impressed. "Jumping straight into a fight after waking up from cold storage," he said appraisingly, "Now, why does that sound familiar?"

"Impressive or not, she's not going to last long without help!" Melanis had her shotgun out on the ready immediately. "We need to get down there!"

"Agreed," Shepard grunted and ran through the only other available exit from the room. On Shepard's order, Melanis shot out and tracked up ahead, shotgun out, ready to take vanguard while Garrus sniped and Shepard looked for an opening. The run down didn't reveal a struggling biotic at all, but three wrecked mechs and a trail of destruction. It made her easy to track despite the amount of hostile ground she covered so quickly.

Jack already had _far_ too much in common with the commander. He had to make a comment on it when he saw the biotic-scorched way continue past some upcoming hostiles. "Everything broken and smoldering in her path… Are you sure the two of you aren't related somehow, Shepard?"

She slid behind a box just in time to miss a line of bullets. "You sure you don't have slave trading in your family?" she shot back as she threw a fireball at someone trying his best to not keep his head up between shots.

"Hey, now, I would hardly think—" He caught a head in his sights and blew it away in a red mist. The body ragdolled back behind cover in mockery. "Scratch one!"

"One what? Prisoner or guard?"

"Hardly see how it matters, seeing as they're either sadistic maniacs locked away for a good reason or Blue Suns mercs moonlighting as slavers. _And_ they're all _shooting at us_, if you haven't noticed."

"Point." She gave a scan and survey of the area, or as much as a quick glance around the corner could allow. "Safe to say we've unleashed chaos within order."

He gave a nod to agree, though she wouldn't be able to see it from her position. But as luck would have it, he got another one, which thudded onto its side, clearly missing anything above the cowl. "Hah! Speaking of points—"

"Don't get _cocky_, Vakarian."

* * *

><p>Garrus admitted he was see-sawing between two states of mind far too often for what most would apply to well-being of one's mental health. Unfortunately, there wasn't too much to do about it when you're in the midst of a mission.<p>

Shepard had been flanked by her duties as soon as they returned to the _Normandy_. She had just come out from quantum entanglement after giving an overview of the mission when Jacob _(him, again)_ stepped up to her side and explained to her that the krogan in the cargo hold had been asking for her, and alluded to a list of other duties on the ship she had to attend to. She only glanced at Garrus before marching off.

Well, looks like their talk was going to have to wait a little longer.

Melanis trapped him before he left the CIC, looking wide-eyed and amazed at just how different one of _Shepard's_ missions was compared to his. And she was more than a little humbled, which was a relief, except she seemed to get some strange ideas about what the skill-set for this sort of operation was. Her tone was quick and clipped and strangely excited... like this was the best thing to happen for her in a while.

Hell, maybe it was. If there were another turian for him to talk to on the first _Normandy_, he might've done the same thing.

"And I finally understood why you _snapped_ at me like that, when I got a little cross at Shepard," she said, pacing back and forth in front of the elevator (Garrus's only means to escape), "But, I just can't understand… how did you _know?_"

"Know what?"

She stopped her endless path in front of him and looked at him with unabashed awe. "How did you know the warden would turn on Shepard like that? And try to use us against her?"

He gave her a long stare. "…I'm afraid I don't quite follow. You think I yell at you because Kuril saw that exchange as useful?"

"Didn't you?"

"Of course not." He shook his head. "I did that to save you from _Shepard_. She'll shut you down and reduce you below dirt; I can vouch from personal experience. Hell, she's probably going to give it to me later for protecting you from her and undermining her authority."

Oh, right. Their… talk might have to come after his dressing down for his behavior. The thought of it made the see-saw tilt again. It made him glad that Mel was there to distract him. Every minute when he wasn't distracted by calibrations or teammates was another minute to go anxiously over every detail that had been bothering him. Like the Kuril's buyers who wanted Shepard… especially interesting since that wasn't the first time someone had tried to steal her recently. Hell, that was the whole reason she ended up on Omega. With him.

But it was clear by Kuril that someone powerful wanted her. Alive._ "You're valuable, Shepard. I could've sold you and lived like a king." _But, why? Maybe he would contact Liara later… could even have something to do with the attack two years ago. Maybe actually finding Shepard didn't mean the search of finding her killers was over.

"I see you're getting distracted," Mel said with some exasperation, then gestured for him to enter into the elevator with her when it opened, "Look, I'll talk to you later. But... make sure you talk to Mierin and Butler. They need you."

"I will."

"We've been through fuck all and... I can't get myself to trust Shepard or her word like you do but..." She paused. "I get it."

"Do you?"

"Well, I'd like to _think_ I do. In a ship full of humans... she has options. She enjoys that one's company. Jacob."

He had to stifle a growl. "I noticed."

"So, you are worried?"

"Not really." He rolled his shoulders. "Which is to say, too early to make a judgment. But, I know Shepard."

"Yeah. I know what you mean. Can't just change how you feel."

"Thanks, Mel."

The doors slid open, and she gave him a nod before marching out ahead. He allowed her on before taking his station at the battery. There were some algorithms that were bouncing around his head and bugging the hell out him during the mission and he was eager to get them out from his skull and in the console where they belonged.

There was a message waiting for him on the terminal, strangely enough. It wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be.

"_I should be up and available after second shift quits on ship. Here and open, whenever you're ready. Sorry for the wait."_

"_Waiting up for you has paid off before. I'll be there,"_ he typed, and felt something patter in his chest again when she responded with a smile emoticon.


	14. The Iron Stove

Disclaimer: Chapter one is where it's at, yo.

I am quite sorry my updates are still going so slow. As an apology, I made this one was longer.

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><p>Butler received word that his wife had managed to safely get transit off of Omega and would be arriving on Illium shortly. That might have been something of a relief, but there was a hollow note in Butler's voice that seemed to indicate that the measure was something he must have considered as a last resort. It made some sense, after all; Omega was his home, his wife's home, and the fight that he'd lost his leg for, lost friends for, was the fight to take it back from the mercs. Now, it was property entirely to their enemies, and he couldn't even say that a spot of floor space belonged to them for their efforts.<p>

Mierin could understand the feeling, but at least he still had Nalah. She had lost both Sensat and Vortash in such a small amount of time, and being cut loose from Omega was just as disorienting for her. She briefly thought about what it might be like to live on Illium, then immediately dropped the idea. She'd been to Illium before; it was a fake place. It smelled like ozone, from where the impurities and dirt where burned away into nothing. It was all crystal spears and clean roads that didn't look at all hospitable. And though you're more likely to see a batarian there than, say, the Citadel, it was aloof with asari, chittering about merchandise and all those things they want and would stab you in the back for, then they clean up the mess and go to the next client.

Putting it that way made her sound racist against her own kind.

Though it wasn't like she _felt_ like she was an asari. Sure, she always tripped along side her mother's skirts as she grew older, but her mother was a merc—a commando—and she was among batarians her entire life. Maybe she knew her mother's softness, and she so wanted to be beautiful and feminine like her, but it didn't make her childhood that different from Vortash's.

Thoughts of her nephew and her lover still made painful jabs in her chest, but she was finally past the point of wiping away those stupid, hot tears from her eyes every time they crossed her mind. She didn't even lounge with fatigue and defeat like she had been for the past few days.

No, now she was boiling with rage.

This wasn't something she could just "talk about", either. Maybe Kelly Chambers knew what she was going through and knew her job well enough. Maybe her remaining friends were used to the occasional outburst of anger by now. But, not from her. Never from her. Sensat got angry. Vortash got angry. She was supposed to be above that. Maybe she was young for an asari, but she had more years than all of them with the exception of Krul.

She didn't need to get angry. That wasn't her job. Her getting angry meant people got hurt. It meant people got killed because she's apparently too young and stupid to keep herself from having an immature reaction.

The starboard cargo area was unoccupied, which was exactly what she needed: a space, to herself, where she could throw about empty shipping containers in relative peace. No human psychiatrists, no reminders of what she lost, nothing but the crackling sound of biotics as they lift and slam heavy crates against each other. The charged, empty boxes echoed with each collision and the entire cargo hold rang with the sound.

It was the first thing she'd focused on since she left Omega. _Really_ focused on. She wasn't even imagining the crates as Blue Suns or Eclipse or the nameless killers of her last pieces of family. They were just metal crates that made a very loud and amusing _BANG! _with every power she threw at them. She easily lost herself into the drills.

Her concentration was jarred as if she'd been woken when someone entered into her space without warning. "Well, well, well. I thought I heard someone slapping around their biotics up here."

Mierin turned to see the strangest looking human she'd ever seen. It took her a few moments to even identify her as a female, and she was covered with so many tattoos that the asari, at first, thought she was wearing some sort of strange, skin-tight suit. The shaved head was even weirder. The males of their race often kept their hair short, but the females were more likely to keep it long for aesthetic purposes. And, yet, this woman seemed... _very_ aesthetic.

"Oh, what's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" the human said, walking over with more of a swagger than a saunter.

"I didn't think I was disturbing anyone by it."

"Disturbing?" The human snorted. "The only thing 'disturbing' is how piss-poor you are at it. Aren't you asari supposed to be biotic geniuses or something? Like, don't you have your tea parties by holding up the cups and crumpets with your mind?"

"That's not—" Mierin tensed and tried to roll her shoulders back to keep from showing agitation. They ended up squaring in a tall posture, instead. "Look, if I'm not bothering you, is there some other reason you're here?"

"Maybe I just like sizing people up," was the response, and she crossed her tattooed arms with something between a smirk and a sneer on her full lips. "Though one look at _you_ tells me you're nothing to worry about."

The boxes all clanged against the bulkheads of the walls at once with the burst of energy from Mierin before she could stop herself. Every muscle in her body was engaged, attempting to hold back the energy crackling in her fists and over her skin. There was no reason she should be getting this upset and she knew it, but, damnit, who was this girl to try to rile her up like this?

"I've been having a bad week," Mierin warned in a low tone, "So, I'd appreciate if you—"

"Oh, suck my clit, you and your 'bad week'," she spat, then went to circling, because she knew damn well what she was doing. "Better yet, burrow your face in between the Cerberus cheerleader's legs. She could probably use the stress release."

A scream ripped through Mierin's throat as she leapt forward with the energy balled in wide globes over her fists. The wild rampage she was intending on was quickly cut off when, even as the boxes around them shuddered, the human woman didn't even _budge_ when her small hands caught Mierin's glowing arms. She absorbed all the momentum head-on and at most leaned back on one booted foot before an even bigger wave of pressure—the biggest Mieirn ever felt that wasn't from _explosives_—swept up from her opponent's side and slammed into her.

Next thing she knew, Mierin was gasping for the breath just knocked out of her lungs and she was against the wall across the room. She only had a glance up before she saw the human advancing in a crisp march, dark tendrils flowing all around her as if the ink on her skin had come alive.

"Now that's more like it!" The last two steps turned into a sprint and all the black light congregated over into one fist as she went for a charged upper-cut. Mierin dodged to the side. The punch went through air, but the energy grazed over the worked metal bulkheads of the wall. The galvanized outer coat warped inward with her fist's passing with a hiss and a whine.

Dear Goddess, was this crazy human trying to _kill_ her?

Faced with either run or fight for your life, Mierin took a chance and threw a singularity. The human rolled to the side and into cover behind one of the tossed boxes, but erupted back into sight as she launched herself up and over them. With a barbarian yalp, she came down on over Mierin again, forcing her to dodge and the brunt of the attack going to the floor. With so much direct energy, this time the covers crinkled inwards.

The dodge was enough to give Mierin an opening, so she took it. She threw a huge push at her opponent, and it succeeded in staggering her back long enough to go in for a follow up move. This time, one of her direct attacks made good contact with the human, and she threw her into one of the crates.

"I saw my nephew die!" Mierin cried out and swiped one of the boxes in to hit the human. It was narrowly avoided, but she still had the upper hand. "My nephew—half my age—whose _birth_ I witnessed—whose _eyes I saw open for the first time_ to his given name—whose _first words and steps_ I was present for—who was half my age and still took care of me since I'm still a stupid kid! He died protecting me!"

"Boo-fucking-hoo!" This insane woman shot the nearest crate at Mierin's legs across the floor. It contacted, but Mierin managed to keep her stance.

"He wanted to see me having children! Children that could never come because my lover died just days before that and he knew it!"

"'Cause you asari mate for life, right?"

"What do _you_ know?" She forced out another shockwave—her biggest yet—but the biotic human ran into it and it shattered like a hemisphere of glass. There was a flash of blinding tattoos, and she was on the ground, a piercing, burning pain radiating from her left breast, up to her neck, and down to her hip. She gasped desperately for air and her hands clawed at the buckled floor.

"Jack!" a different voice came in, followed by the clack of heels. It was the other human biotic, Miranda. "What the hell were you just doing?"

"Playing with the asari over there." Mierin had a feeling that "Jack" was looking over at her like she was a child in a playpen as a gesture, but she couldn't move her neck to make sure. "Figured both of us could do with a little bit of sparring practice."

"More like _attacking_ her. The commander won't be so kind when she finds out you've been accosting other members of this crew."

"If it bothers 'the commander', then she can tell me, herself. You, on the other hand, should be getting to work making sure that I have access to all those files that I'm going to need in order to keep that deal straight with me."

"You have the clearance, already. Maybe you should keep your mind on your side of the bargain with Shepard."

"Hey, I agreed enter into her crazy mission, didn't I?" She barked a laugh and plodded away, down the hall. Instead of mercifully following after her, Miranda clacked further into the cargo hold and knelt beside Mierin.

"How badly injured are you? Can you move?" She didn't sound very concerned; more like she was asking if there was a malfunction in engineering. Mierin was actually a little glad for that.

"I can't move much of my left side." she admitted.

"EDI," Miranda called up, "Have someone come down and bring her up to the medbay with a stretcher."

"Medical personnel has already been alerted, Operative Lawson."

* * *

><p>"Commander, I thought you might like to be informed that there was an engagement between Mierin and Jack in the Starboard Cargo Area."<p>

Shepard, in the meantime, was busy hashing through some code on her console with a dull, annoyed look on her face. When the blue sphere had appeared in the corner of the loft, she didn't even turn towards its glow.

"Great." Her tone was dry and flat. "Exactly what I need to hear right now. Is Mierin in therapy with Chambers or in the medbay with Chakwas?

"She is with Chakwas. Should I alert Yeoman Chambers, as well?"

"No. I'm sure the last thing she needs right now is a shrink breathing down her neck. What sort of damage did she sustain?"

"Mierin's wounds are relatively minor. There is extensive bruising and some trauma to various tendons, but no fractures or lesions were detected."

"How about Jack?"

"I believe Jack enjoyed the conflict. Although Mierin was technically attacked first, Jack had obviously led her into the altercation."

She huffed a breath through her nose. "Of course she did."

"Do you require Jack detained?"

"No, that'd be pointless." _And messy._ "I'll just talk to them both later when I have the chance."

"Understood, Commander. Logging you out."

Shepard leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. She wasn't going downstairs _now_, damnit. Second shift was almost over and there was no way she was going to be going down to hash out more orders when everyone—including herself—was getting jumpy and frazzled.

She could tell when she was acting off. Hell, she made a fucking _smiley face_ when she was texting Garrus earlier. Who the fuck even makes _smiley faces_ anymore? That went out of style even before wireless access through personal telephones became obsolete. Did that even _mean_ anything to turians? He hadn't responded since then, and she had spent her downtime trying to access his panel remotely from here (which had served no purpose except to remind her how much code has already evolved in just two years).

She was better at splicing panels in secured doors, anyway.

Her "talk" with him wasn't something she had any sort of advantage for, either. He was severely bothered by... _something_ dealing with the two of them. It wasn't affecting his performance mission-wise, but what the hell was he getting suddenly hesitant about? It's not that he didn't _want_ her. That was clear enough.

Fingers drummed across the tabletop just below the keyboard. Then again, he didn't seem to expect getting into any sort of physical relationship with her, nor did she to be fair. Maybe he was attracted to humans—or to her—but he was still a different race with a different biology and a different culture. It wouldn't be out of character for him to get caught up with the details of interspecies mating despite the fact they both seemed to have the proper goods and _definitely_ had the proper will.

Maybe it was a chirality thing. Dextro-vs-levo could have some bad results, depending on the person, but she knew one woman in basic that ate turian sweets because they didn't "go to her hips". It couldn't be that bad, right? In seconds, to reassure herself, she typed out "dextro amino allergic genitals", and proceeded to not be reassured at all. In fact, she protectively tightened her thighs inward and cringed. For a human woman, it looked like a lot of red and burning and inflammation. Fuck, and she was about to swallow that one time in the bath. Anaphylactic shock didn't seem so laughable, all of the sudden.

It was one thing to tell herself that it didn't matter, but damned if she still hadn't unclenched her thighs since she saw those images.

Okay, it wouldn't do to be suddenly unsure and hesitant on her side if Garrus was starting to lose confidence. Surely, it was just as easy to find evidence on the Extranet (and, perhaps, a few tips) to remind her of the good things she's trying to get herself into. A shortage of porn, especially after humans entered the galactic arena, was never something complained by anyone with a link-up to their omnitool. And it couldn't be that unusual, not with all those asari. They had to have worked out the finer details of protein-mixing long before the turians and humans bumped into each other. It would also be a good excuse to figure if turians even did the whole oral thing and why Garrus was so good at it.

Some normal, turian-man-on-turian-woman porn proved that, oh yeah, they _definitely_ did the whole oral thing. Not all "genitals in the mouth going to town" really, but tongues were apparently _very_ damn useful. And appreciated. Though it looked more like teasing rather than a way to actually get off due to their teeth and, well, Garrus had gained a new... _respect_ for her lips from earlier.

They didn't just confine themselves to their nether-regions, either, which pointed out pretty well on the turian erogenous zones. And did_ wonders _for the hesitation she had a few minutes ago_. _She let a hand slip down behind her waistband as she clicked thumbnail after thumbnail, even established a good rhythm that had her putting her shoulders into it. About the time she was considering unbuttoning her pants to give her hands a little more room to work and maybe take the little laptop to her couch was when she noticed a strange sound from her left.

Garrus was frozen mid-jerk from where she caught him, apparently just as off-guard and unsuspecting as she was. His eyes were wider than she'd ever seen on a turian, and every muscle was locked up in inward working. There was a slow hiss of intake—mandibles out—for a moment, which stopped just as abruptly when they clacked back on his face. Was he even afraid to _breathe?_

They were in such a still picture for what felt like a minute. Shepard was the first to move, shooting out a hand to close the (still moving) display, and gave Garrus liberty to get some oxygen and shift his feet awkwardly. When she turned to him again, she wasn't sure if the proper face she should have on was abashed or indignant or straight up mortified.

"I thought you were coming in after second shift was over," she tried. Other than the effects of a suddenly dry throat, her voice at least sounded good and even.

"Um... I did."

She blinked at him and furrowed her brows, then looked down at the time display on her desk: one minute after third shift start. "Jesus, Vakarian, did you just wait outside my door until the clock struck?"

He gave a weak laugh. "You know I like to be prompt, Commander."

"Yeah, well—" She moved to stand, realizing half-way that her hand was still down her pants. It pulled out and she turned away from him, cringing and holding her face with the other hand in what she hoped translated as annoyance and not embarrassment.

Garrus cleared his throat. "So... it turns out you _do_ have fetish for turians? Should I be warning Melanis?"

She huffed a breath through her nose and allowed herself to face him again and grin. "She's safe from my horrible, xenophile clutches. Besides, didn't you notice that she acts _a lot_ like a turian Ashley?" After letting a beat pass to see if he had a response on the ready, she went to move past him to the couch. "So, you said you had something to talk to me abou—"

One large hand stopped her by grabbing her shoulder and turning her in his direction again, his other took her wrist and brought her still-moist fingers to his mouth. A blue tongue wrapped around them and took away some of that moisture to replace with its own and his eyes were directly and steadily set on hers. And since that wasn't a mind-numbing enough action for him to perform, the hand on her shoulder slid up behind her neck and pulled her forward into a kiss.

Oh god, she should do something. Why wasn't she doing anything? She never had trouble reacting before. Here was Garrus, sliding his _magnificent_ blue tongue over hers, and she was embarrassingly having trouble even keeping up. Shouldn't her hands be busy distracting him or turning him on? But the one is still in his hand. What about the other that's just kind of hanging there? Wait, what should she with it?

He pulled away before she could decide and, as if to answer an unspoken question, said, "You—ahem—said you liked how you tasted on me."

She had a stupid look on her face and she knew it, and those words just flushed her skin up into her scalp and down past her neck. Garrus Vakarian just caught her off guard and she knew it. Worse, he knew it, too, and he looked far too pleased with himself.

Shepard swallowed and managed to grin back at him. "Keep that up, and we may never get to actually talking."

He hummed a purr at her. "Says the woman just caught getting herself _prepared_."

"You make it sound like I had myself spread out across a table with all the trimmings." _Aha!_ He blinked and floundered a little at that one. She regained some confidence and went to sit on the couch, motioning for him to follow. He did silently, obviously still in a fluster, but he sat with his thigh touching hers.

"I actually do have something I want to talk to you about," he said with his tone still quite sheepish.

"Which is?"

He heaved a breath and looked at her, then reached up to touch her face lightly with his gloved talons. She doubted he could feel her skin through those. "I just—I've been so glad to see you. Not to say I didn't greave, but something about a funeral where Joker gets kicked out for screaming 'it wasn't the geth'… makes you want to find out what really happened."

"I remember you telling me about that. Hard to think of Joker freaking out like that." When she first saw him again on the _Normandy_, he turned his chair and looked at her like she just came back from a mission. He even gave her some sarcastic line about seeing her spaced and how she never could sit still.

He smiled. "I don't count finding you as finishing my investigation, but that's not my point. I went out for more or less the same reason I joined you two years ago, and here I am with the result. We're both alive, with living comrades, and all the responsibilities associated."

"You're not complaining, are you?"

"Of course not. I need to be in this fight with you, Shepard. There's nothing else I could do right now that could be any more important."

What he said was said with such purpose that the ensuing silence after was unnerving as Shepard waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she forced herself to relax backwards into the cushions of the couch. "I'm still not sure what it is you wanted to talk with me about, Garrus."

"I... I just thought you to know that, even with everything happening, I didn't want to miss a chance with this." He punctuated his point by taking her hands into his. "Maybe I shouldn't want that. There's a lot going on, here. A lot on the line that could be jeopardized."

Shepard's brows furrowed. Was he talking about sex or a full-blown relationship?

"I might seem a little distant lately, and I have more guilt than I should carry dealing with what Sidonis fucked up before I found you... but, I can't just let..." His nervous voice trailed off and his mandibles twitched like he was trying to control them from flaring in and out and failing.

A relationship. He wanted a relationship. What the hell was she supposed to do with that? Say yes? No? String him along like the same sort of cock-tease bitch that would flaunt at him while he was under stress? She frowned, but before Garrus could panic at the severe silence that fell over her, she leaned her shoulder against his and huffed.

"I just came back to life with two years lost and the Reapers still coming," she began. "Hell, the fact that I even did that throws 'permanence' right out the window. But..."

"But?" his voice was soft, like he was a little choked up.

"I don't want to miss out, either. Maybe take this a day at a time? No pressure, just see how it pans out for us both."

His body shifted where he sat, then he pulled himself forward and faced her, looking to where she still reclined. His face was hard to read because she'd never really seen it before on a turian. Hopeful and strangely resolute, like he just found something unbelievably important. "I can do that. Definitely."

Shepard smiled and pulled up a hand to run her fingers across the marks in his face. He melted into her touch, and it was crazy how satisfying that felt to her. "Why don't we start by lounging up here and you telling me about your team? I didn't get to meet all of them, you know."

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><p>I love Jack. Shepard should text her a smiley face. Bitches love smiley faces.<p> 


	15. Jack and the Beanstalk

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

I'm sorry my chapters are coming out so slowly, now. Having two jobs kind of destroys your free-time. Seriously; it _obliterates_ it.

Also, I've been hearing a lot about FF-net purging out sexandviolence (starts with an "s" and ends with an "e") by large brushes lately. It's foolish of them to do so, and I do think it'd be wiser to just put an MA classification. As such, I'm going to continue to post this story as intended, with intended content. If this story is deleted as a result, _I don't care. _I might quit writing it, I might upload it elsewhere (though I'm very antipathic to AAF-net's layout)... we'll see._  
><em>

Cheers!

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><p>So, here Garrus was, sitting in the med-bay beside Mierin like a good superior should. A bitter, Shepard-induced hard-on pressed painfully against the inner curve of his armor, because he's apparently not allowed to simply get it over with and fuck his commanding officer.<p>

To be fair, though, this time was as much his fault as anyone else's. As he was talking to Shepard in the loft just two levels up (and she's still there, his brain so helpfully reminded him), she slipped closer and closer while she languidly rubbed his neck until she was almost _behind_ him. Right when he was going to voice his question on that, she had carefully pulled down the fabric from where it lay on the back of his neck and… That wet little human tongue and those _damn_ suction-capable lips! Apparently, Shepard wasn't so hesitant to use the knowledge she just gained from her "research".

And that, still, was only something _exasperating_ the problem. He was already at immediate full attention when he walked in and found her watching turian porn and moving into her own hand. It was even _disorienting_; he felt when he stood from a resting position too quickly. There was always the joke about the blood supply rushing too from the brain before, but, spirits, it looks like that _literally happened to him_.

Yet, Shepard was embarrassed, which was hard for him to even imagine up to that point. And that was fantastic. He caught her off guard, and she wanted him, and he was aching for her. The change in her scent was wonderful—different, yet still her—but he was just as aware of that slickness on her fingers. What was it she said before? "I like the way I taste on you"? Before he knew it, he was pulling her hand to his tongue, then pulling in her mouth to his. It might have been a little hasty of him, but the look on her face... Absolutely worth it. Completely flushed, her jaw dropped to make her lips shape a little "o", with her beautiful eyes stunned and smoky all at the same time.

Her decision when he finally asked her for what he needed to know was just as perfect. "No pressure", "a day at a time"… it was such a perfect answer. Such a _Shepard_ answer. And he loved it. That word, "love", exactly. He loved her, and he didn't have to worry about it being perfect and setting up an elaborate courtship (do humans even do that?) when they could just continue as they are and see where that leads them. He loved her, and maybe she loved him, and that was enough for the moment.

Detailing his team and their exploits was something he had managed to avoid before. It was a sore spot for him, but the little change in time seemed to have been more than enough to soften the impact. He was a step away from regaling her (he hoped) with stories of heroism and tactical synopsis straight into her bed when she had let slip that Mierin was in the med-bay with injuries. Next thing he knew, he was on the elevator ride down, Shepard's heat clinging where he had to pry her mouth off his neck.

_At least she wasn't offended, I guess,_ he groused mentally, remembering how she laughed at his "mother henning". He tried to keep his eyes squared ahead as Mierin went through apology after apology, then chirped along about her entire experience on the _Normandy_—from pick-up to her trip to the gurney—with such excitement that one would wonder if she was actually _thankful_ for getting the shit beat out of her. And he _shou__ld_ wonder about that, but he was too glad she wasn't sobbing or moaning in depression anymore to risk questioning it.

Besides, right now, all he could think of was Shepard. Upstairs. With that delicious scent and _maybe she brought that video up again_. And here he was, stuck with his injured subordinate, talking to her while Shepard could, at this very moment, be using that insanely soft and dexterous hand to slide against her…

Mierin started giggling.

He resisted snorting at her in exasperation. "What?"

"I'm sorry. You don't want to be here right now, do you?" She had one of those big grins like she had a secret and really, really, really wanted to tell somebody.

"I don't _suppose_ you remember how I immediately released myself from this very medbay as soon as I woke up?"

"Whenever I saw Sensat with that face, I knew that he was gripping his seat in impatience. Then, first chance he found, he'd pounce on me," she said with way more cheer than she'd ever had when speaking of Sensat since his death.

"Wha—" He stopped himself and grimaced. Yeah, she knew the face she was talking about. It was an expression boot camp kids had. Most of them just found sex when they left to their training, and if they had to stay in just a few minutes late before classroom training let out, they would sneer at their trainer. He caught Sensat glaring at him that way a few times when he was debriefing them, and he thought at the time that Sensat was showing himself to be immature. _Immature_, though, would be a good way of describing how Garrus was acting, now.

"You can go back to her if you want. I'll be okay after some rest." She leaned over and her big grin shifted down into a little smile. "Maybe I can even get some clearance from Kelly to join with some of the missions. With the commander's allowance, of course."

"Focus on getting healthy before you get any more dangerous ideas, Mierin."

"Then you might not approve of what I want to do as soon as the doctor lets me out of here. I'm considering going to Jack to spar with her. She has some pretty… incredible moves. I think I could learn from her."

"_Of course_ I don't approve. You didn't see the trail of destruction she left when we went to pick her up. Hell, I'm frankly quite afraid of her and Shepard being in the same ship, knowing how Shepard's luck can run. In any case, Jack doesn't seem to be much of the _teaching_ type."

"Well…"

"Nevermind that this is a human vessel. They don't _do_ full contact sparring before missions. Your skirmish with Jack was an unlicensed exception."

"I'm sure you can convince the commander of the… _merits_."

He gave a measured glower at her. "Mierin."

"I mean, Mel went on and on about how you could convince her to do just about anything…"

"Mierin!"

* * *

><p>It wasn't until some time later when Garrus managed to see Shepard, again. He <em>did<em> want to return immediately to her cabin, but EDI had advised him that the commander had fallen asleep and there was a heavily implied note in the synthetic voice that it was best to leave her to rest.

Maybe Garrus just applied the note in the AI's voice from his own mind. He hoped he did.

He was rather surprised about the condition in which he did see Shepard again. The order was to come to the airlock in ten to be on the ground team, and on his way to complying with the order, he heard an announcement over the ship that they were docked at the Citadel for the next twelve hours.

Add to the confusion as to the wisdom of bringing a Cerberus-funded vessel commanded by a dead Spectre, the other person to be brought along Shepard's side was Jack.

"I take it we're on the most _delicate_ of diplomatic missions," Garrus grumbled with thick sarcasm.

Shepard's response was easy. "Anderson asked for me to come, so I'm coming."

"Maybe Garrus is too busy with his calibrations to go this time," Joker quipped from his chair as it spun to face them. The blue orb avatar blinked up quickly at his words.

"The forward guns are currently at maximum capacity and targeting systems are at fifty perfect accuracy above the manufacturer's VI capability. Any more calibrations while we are docked would be a waste of Mr. Vakarian's time and energy, Mr. Monroe."

Really? He'd only taken a cursory glance at the statistics. He must've been pouring more hours into those guns than he thought.

The helmsman hissed at the hologram. "I wasn't being serious. Geez, I can't say anything around here without this glorified VI flipping in with a buzzkill. Permission to go ground-side for the shore leave, ma'am? I could use the change of atmosphere."

"This isn't shore leave, Joker. I just took the hours we're going to need in to get restocked and all errands run then rounded them up. Wait until your shift ends and then we'll talk about where you chose to go off-duty."

"Aye aye, Commander." He turned back towards his own orange displays. "And here I was hoping I could go and get myself kidnapped to a nice party with booze and strippers for a few days."

To Joker's effort, Shepard did chuckle, but she kept it well hidden and didn't allow it to be audible until after the doors slid closed.

Garrus couldn't help himself. "Speaking of booze and strippers—" His voice was low and teasing.

Jack's hitherto annoyed face broke out into an appreciative leer. "A good titty bar would be the perfect place for a meeting with the chairman of the council."

Shepard squared a reprehensive look at Garrus, who merely mirrored Jack's leer, but with a more personal twitch to his mandibles. She shook her head, but mostly to hide the curl of a smile on her lips.

He did his best throughout the transit and trouble in processing at C-Sec to keep those lips curled all the way there, using such exchanges with Jack (crazy though she may be, she knew how to play the game) or pressing his fingers surreptitiously in the joints of her armor. She kept shooting him looks that said "oh, you bet we'll have words about this later", but that didn't hinder the smile.

Jack didn't seem bored or vexed by the stops with Bailey or with Anderson at all, unlike Garrus had expected; she watched the exchanges Shepard had carefully and quietly, as if trying to determine their natures. Her expression was examining and thoughtful. It was clear she was sizing up the commander without just confronting her. Interesting; her abrasive and hard-face personality that had her beating up Mierin for sport didn't peg her as an introvert to him.

The response she had to Shepard and Udina speaking was the most interesting. Jack settled back into an assured stance at their exchange. Something about the clear animosity between the commander and the politician must have pleased her.

"Say," Jack started as Shepard finished up with her talk, "Shepard likes her men hard and spiky?"

Garrus looked over at her with a raised brow. "I thought most women did."

She snorted. "Fuck you. You know what I meant."

"Not sure what her love life was before. How about you? You like your asari on the ground and bleeding?"

"Hey, she wasn't _bleeding_. And she was _sloppy_. Just throwing around energy like she could Blue Hulk her way around the place. You wouldn't _believe_ how many asari are like that. Think they're all biotic powerhouses until they come across someone better. Is it so bad for me to be the one to do it?"

_Because tearing apart a prison ship with biotics wasn't "throwing around energy"._ "Something tells me you haven't fought a matriarch before."

"_Of course_ I've fought matriarchs. Shit, they're the only ones that are any fun in a fight. Better in bed, too. Those maidens brute-force their way through sex like a human boy with his first chance to get his cock wet."

"Funny; Sensat seemed just fine with it."

"Jack," Shepard's tone of voice, which had smoothed out and warmed up while she talked with Anderson, had returned to its normal curt and clipped diction. "I need to run some errands, but you're dismissed. Just don't tear the Citadel's arms off."

"Sounds good to me." Jack turned with them as they walked and stretched her arms out above her head. "Wanted to see what sort of dancing joints this place has now."

When she separated from them, Garrus turned to Shepard to say something, but instead found her smirking at him. "And _you_, Officer Vakarian. What makes you think it's a good idea to poke and prod at me and try to make me laugh through a security check, hmm?"

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't too stiff when seeing your former captain."

"Such a noble man. It's a mystery how a nice turian lady hasn't snatched you up, yet." She knocked her greaves against his playfully. "I've got some more errands to run, but I was thinking about seeing what sort of bars the Citadel has now. Want to meet me somewhere in a few hours?"

"Hmm. How about I follow you through your errands and we just figure out the bar from there?"

"Don't you trust me to be able to keep out of trouble?"

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, Garrus. I'm just going shopping, and it's not like I'll be unarmed. Or on Omega."

"And how many fights broke out two years ago nearby or because of you? While you were shopping ? On the Citadel?"

"That's not fair."

"And why are you trying so hard to get rid of me? Don't tell me you already have another turian beau out there just when you started with me."

"Didn't you know? I have a whole double life here. I'm married with five kids. My husband sells cheap Earth replica knick-knacks in the Wards with the eldest."

"Oh! So you're married to the human I kept having to bring in for distribution of contraband knick-knacks? Well, now I feel bad for arresting him so often. Having to raise five kids while his wife goes cavorting across the galaxy with a devilishly handsome turian must be hard enough."

Shepard scoffed at him and punched him in the arm. He didn't feel it through the armor, though it wasn't like she was putting much strength into it. "Fine. You can come with me, but I guarantee the only thing deadly about the excursion will be the boredom."

He leaned his head down to nuzzle softly against her neck. "Then, I'll be there to protect you from that, too."

* * *

><p>Shepard wanted the time alone to primp up, get reservations, and all those stupid things people do when they take their lovers out on a date. The stupid things that before seemed to make relationships as a whole far too high-maintenance to even bother with when you have a military career to keep. Maybe it would have been a nice surprise; she wasn't sure about turian culture, but the sentiment would likely translate well enough. Or maybe he would have been befuddled and confused since she'd earlier said "no pressure" and going to a fancy restaurant didn't exactly fall with that statement.<p>

What might've happened didn't matter, anyway; she wasn't about to prepare a surprise romantic evening when the person being surprised was standing right there. Instead, she was doing a good job of rationalizing and dismissing it as Aesop's fox dismissed the sour grapes. Garrus would probably get scared off if his superior officer started giving him obviously preferential treatment. Shit, there are Collectors stealing entire colonies of humans out there, Reapers just beyond the sunset, no one was doing anything about any of it, and she was seriously thinking about wasting her time and resources acting like a bubble-headed love monster?

"Is that what you were talking about before?"

Shepard glanced over at Garrus dumbly from the store's console she was busy scrolling up and down on without actually reading the stock. "Huh?"

Garrus pointed over to a florist across the way, where an asari shopkeep was showing off the selection of artificially manufactured and scented flora of various planets to a human customer. Shepard had to reign in the horrified look that wanted to take over her face. Did she miss a codex explaining how turians could read minds? Were her thoughts written across her face? Or did he do some research on human relationships and picked up on the signals and rituals without her realizing it?

"Roses, right? I recognize the scent from the bath."

"What?" _Oh._ "I mean, yeah. That's right. What, you want me to buy you some?"

He chuckled. "I don't know about that. Not much use for imitation alien flowers. Maybe we should buy some mods, some scented gun oil, and make a night of it?"

The biggest grin split across Shepard's face.

"What?"

"Should'a known you were into that sort of thing."

"That's…" He scowled. "I didn't… Is there anything I can say without you twisting it around into an image I can't get out of my head?"

"Afraid not. You make this little growl in the back of your throat when I frustrate you and I can't get enough of it."

"_Shepard_."

"Tell you what; you choose the bar, and I'll see what I can do about paying for the drinks."

He didn't seem placated by that, but instead settled in a weird, tense silence. "Maybe we shouldn't."

Her heart jumped. "What, afraid I'll do something _untoward?_" she said with a forced joke in her tone. What did she say to curdle his mood so suddenly?

"It's just… It'd be the first time actually going out for drinks without the rest of my team since… well."

_Fuck._ "You can invite them, if you want." She didn't want to say that—she wanted to relax with him alone tonight—but a look worried an expression into his face like a carving knife every time he thought of what happened. She may have stepped in just after what happened with Sidonis, but that was still outside of her reach into his situation. Damn, she was really inept at this dating noise.

There was a gravelly curl of sound in his chest and he took a moment to look at her. She wasn't sure what her offer must have meant to him, but he ended up responding, "Bars are expensive, anyway. Why don't we just pick up a bottle of something while we're out, and I'll think of a nice place on the Citadel to empty it."

_That's a relief._ "Sounds good. I need to pick up a bottle of something for Chakwas, anyway."


	16. The Spirit in the Bottle

Disclaimer: Chapter 1. Hey, you guys know what toys are, right? I assume you do.

Ugh... Is it just me, or are my updates getting slower? I'm super-sorry about that, guys. I want to try to update both stories a lot faster, because I'm pretty sure October (a.k.a. The Month After Next) will be updateless due to work-related circumstances.

Anyway! Thank you guys for your continued support and your absolutely fabulous reviews of encouragement and compliments!

* * *

><p>"Erash's bomb was about to go off, and there we were, on the <em>other<em> side of this catwalk that Krul took out with the rocket launcher."

"Uh huh."

"So, Monty gets it into his head that he can jump the ten feet of air. He takes a few steps back for the run to it, and I'm screaming at him to not do it and that he's an idiot and a lunatic. But he jumps... and he misses the ledge by a good three feet. He makes this high-pitched, feminine howl of fear and lands straight on his ass on the hood of a taxi."

"Mhm."

"_Turns out_ Garrus and Sensat had taken the taxi after Vortash hacked it. They were there to pick us up, and Sensat was going to pluck us out of the air with biotics if the blast got to us before they did. He wasn't expecting Monty to do it himself and scared him right out of his head. Ended up pushing rather than pulling. Whipped Monty off the side he was sliding into the door Garrus opened to get to us. Broke his helmet and his nose."

"Huh."

"When we got back onto solid ground, Mel notices a liquid on the top of the taxi. Didn't think anything of it, probably just a leaking pipe somewhere. Omega's full of 'em. But then someone notices Monty was walking a little bowlegged and trying to get out of sight all sneaky like. Then Erash points out the wet footprints."

"Hmm."

"We all teased him for weeks! Sensat was stuffin' packs of adult diapers in his locker. That stopped when he struck back and put them back into his locker—along with a specialty 'infantilist' asari issue of Fornax. Better believe they didn't talk for a while after that."

"Come on, Butler," Mel said as she sauntered up to the cockpit, "What makes you think this guy's even interested in listening to you? He already has to deal with that AI, and he could at least mute the thing."

"Mr. Moreau may be able to block out my opinions, but he still must work with me." The usual blue ball of light blinked up along with the voice. "And he does not always mute me. However, by the amount of times his eyes have triangulated onto the current time, I do believe he has been 'counting the minutes' before his shift is over.'"

"I'm sure if he was bored, he would have said something."

"You said that about Monteague, too," Mel pointed out, "And you know how much he hated your gossip."

Butler seemed to consider this, then glanced over at Joker who continued working controls and not saying a word for or against his case. "Does kind of act like Monty, doesn't he?"

Mel sighed and threw her hands up. "Do what you like. I'm going to go eat at a nice restaurant. If what those Cerberus guys are saying is true about the human food here, I suggest you do the same."

"Bring Mierin with you. She could use a girl's night out."

"What the hell is a 'girl's night'—you know what? I'm just going to go. I want to go to a simple turian joint for once." She leaned over Joker's shoulder and looked at the orange screen before him, and made an amused chirp. "Three… two… one…"

Joker burst up as well as his legs could let him and he crooned something of a hallelujah to the ceiling. "Official shore leave or not, you better believe I'm going to take advantage of the _first real break_ I've gotten since Shepard came back." He hobbled towards the airlock. "EDI, why don't you make yourself useful and break something on the ship so I have time to sleep off the hangover I plan on getting?"

The AI returned with some nagging words about that being against protocol and completely counterintuitive to the nature and importance of their mission and any of Shepard's orders. While they argued about whether Shepard was a slave-driver or not, Mel looked over at Butler with a spread-mandible grin.

He shrugged.

* * *

><p>It turned out Garrus knew a thing or two about wine. A happy surprise, since Shepard was planning on getting two different bottles just to avoid chirality issues, meaning twice as much liquor and an increasing possibility of drinking the wrong one. Even if she had thought to look for alcohol both of them could drink, she would have assumed something distilled rather than fermented would be best.<p>

Wine, however, had various stages in its process in which proteins can be and usually are scrubbed out. Normally, most winemakers would remove them in order to reduce the clouding in the wine itself, but the galactic community has long since tuned in that process to eliminate all proteins with astringents, careful application of heat, and engineered fining agents for cross-protein species. It didn't take long for some enterprising humans to join in on the market with Earth-based reds, whites, and rosés.

"Unfortunately, this means the price tag actually _does_ coincide with the quality," Garrus groused as he poured over the list, "Once you cross the line between 'low protein' and 'zero protein', all the processes necessary could make for some disappointing quality. Some end up cooking the wine with the heat and bruise the flavor, or they'll overdo it with astringents and the wine ends up being way drier than it ever should be. Keeping good track of those levels, and buying good fining agents, ends up affecting the price tag a lot more than just good land and barrels."

"I never expected you to be a connoisseur of this sort of thing," she said with thinly-veiled amusement.

"Turians might make for the biggest number in C-Sec, but we're still outnumbered by levo races. That meant strikes, undercover operations, and any sort of office party all meant that we better as _hell_ know what liquors and beers are safe to drink. It came in handy more than once on Omega." His mandibles fluttered shyly. "And I blame my father for any knowledge past that."

"Don't tell me your family is in the wine business."

"No, but my father knows enough about it to start one if he wanted to. He… sort of got into some salarian labels during his service on the Citadel and branched out from there. Then he dragged the whole family into his hobby with the dinner table. My sister still won't drink anything that doesn't come in a Thessian bottle."

"Really? Well, maybe I can get you stuck on human tastes."

He grinned at her. "We'll see about that. So! What do you want, Shepard? I, ah, recall humans on the force saying sparkling whites translate the best."

"That, uh, sounds good to me." Shepard tended to do shots, and her knowledge of wine began and ended at_ "how to get the red kind out of your uniform before inspection"._ "Just pick something out. I trust your judgment."

Garrus studied her a moment, then turned back to the display. A few presses later, the storefront computer beeped with the completion of an order, then he opened a new checkout and pulled out his credit chit.

Shepard furrowed her brows and moved to his shoulder. "I said I'd pay for it. As in 'we're getting Cerberus to pay for our night out'."

"Yeah, but I saw the budget he's given you, and I'd feel better if you kept it for more important things. With how much you like to run behind enemy lines, I'd rather see you spend that money on armor mods than a bottle to make a night better."

"I didn't realize you had such little faith in me."

"Sometimes, faith is all I've got when it comes to you. Or did you forget you have a habit of attempting the _statistically impossible?"_ He settled an arm around her shoulders, his other hand plucking up a bottle handed to him by the asari at the desk. "The brandy will be delivered to the ship. How about we go and drink ours?"

"We're not going back to the Normandy and I have a feeling you don't want me spending money on a hotel."

"Don't worry about that."

* * *

><p>Garrus had let the lease on his apartment expire when he left for the Terminus Systems well over a year ago, but the Vakarians were frequent visitors of the Citadel and years past found that hotel rooms would be too significant a drain on the family budget. His father had bought a studio space near the docks for use as an office and stayover many years back shortly after his then-pregnant wife settled on Palaven.<p>

The furnishing was clean, professional and hardly looked like anything but an office, with the large desk, various terminals, some self-sufficient potted plants for decoration, and no wasted space whatsoever. The large couch could fold out into a bed that was less comfortable to sleep on than the couch itself. What looked like a closet actually opened up to a simple bathroom outfitted with a sonic shower and a sink. One of the end tables hid a cooling unit that could hold enough food for two meals if one was frugal.

But the office did have one grand thing: an unobstructed view of the Citadel, showcasing the baffling structures, the twinkling lights of buildings in the arms above them, and the ring in the far distance, framing the ambient, cloudy light of the Serpant Nebula beyond it. Garrus's father was a practical man, but he wouldn't be surprised if he turned down a bigger, more hospitable space just for this vista. And, still, it was roomier than most ship cabins.

It wasn't a resource Garrus used often, but bringing Shepard here seemed like a fantastic way to get her to forget the Collectors, the disappearing human colonies, problems with Udina, and her unwilling disconnect from the Alliance. And it worked like a charm, too; her face turned almost blank with innocent awe, most likely an expression few other people saw, let alone was an agent in putting there. That knowledge felt like a victory.

She regained her composure and smirked at him. "Wow, Garrus. Why'd you hold out on these digs?"

"We were a little too busy last time we were at the Citadel together with chasing Saren and saving the galaxy to really take advantage of it."

She gave him a wry look and he expected her to say something to match it, but instead shook her head and went out onto the balcony. It didn't occur to Garrus until then—when he was stooped looking for absent dishware—that neither of them had eaten, either. He sighed at himself and weighed whether it would be more awkward to order something in or just go ahead and slip out.

"Garrus!" she called from her new perch as she leaned heavily on her arms towards the view.

He shucked away the question and opened the bottle as he approached. "Sorry, we're going to have to drink out of the bottle." He passed it to her and she straightened to take it. She eyed it suspiciously, supplied him with the same glance, and took a swig. A split second later, she pulled it away with a cough.

"Didn't think it'd be that strong."

"Not strong, it's fucking carbonated. The hell, Garrus? Champagne? Are you sure you didn't want me to get some roses?"

And just like that, Garrus couldn't remember which wine he got. Not that it mattered, anyway; he just sorted the list by the limited knowledge he had of human wines he had and picked what he could afford. The label on the bottle was turned away from him, and a mandible twitched in frustration at that. Wait, was Champagne a label or another word for the type he sorted by?

The question turned out to be rhetorical, because Shepard simply passed the bottle back to him and watched him expectantly. He took a drink.

"Good?" she asked.

He felt his brows quirk into a grimace from the taste. It wasn't exactly bad, but he was disappointed. Figures, though, since he only paid… now he can't remember how many credits he spent on this.

Shepard could read his silence and gave a chuckle. "We could have gotten two separate drinks, you know. That way you can have something you like and I won't have to have a silly argument with you about money best spent on mods."

"I might not have planned this very well," he admitted. He was usually better at this. Tactics and strategy or—hell—just wooing women. But those women were… closer to home. In more ways than one. What he and Shepard had in common lies in the battlefield.

He swore her eyes stole a sparkle of light from the nebula. "If it makes you feel better, it's better than what I was planning."

She was planning something as well? "And what was that?"

"I was thinking even an honorary Spectre could get a reservation at a nice restaurant without much trouble."

"…See? That is a much better idea."

"I'm pretty sure I would have made an idiot of myself, instead." Before he could disagree, she turned to the expanse ahead again and added, "Besides, this way we get this view all to ourselves."

That put a lot of his nervousness to rest. He settled beside her, intentionally bumping a shoulder against hers. "I'll order us some food, then."

"See if they can deliver glasses, too."

Disposable cups were as best as they could get, but it wasn't like Garrus was particularly interested in watching the carbon dioxide in the wine float up to the surface. They were distracted as they waited for the food by removal of their heavy armors and a sudden, drunken call by Melanis (who was pouting and slurring and laughing all at the same time, so at least she was having fun), and their meal afterwards was a stretched silence as they wolfed down their food as they sat on the balcony. Shepard seemed to be particularly happy with her meal, cross-legged with the white box of steaming food sitting upon her lap. Apparently, the current _Normandy_ had issues with their groceries for the humans as well, because he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen her eat with such fervor.

"See what I was talking about?" Her voice was muffled with food.

_Come now, Commander. Talking with your mouth full?_ "What was that?"

Her hand shot over to her cup of wine, and after a long swallow, she straightened herself up to look at him. "I was just saying that we're better off not going to a restaurant. Could you imagine? The two of us in clothing that we can't even sit in comfortably, let alone if a gunfight actually _did_ erupt while we were there," she said with a snort, but she was smiling. "And it'd be a disaster if I tried to primp up in make-up and whatever the hell hair irons are for. Eating delivery on a balcony floor in our underarmor is much better."

He found himself grinning. Maybe that wine was starting to get to him. He had noticed it getting easier to drink. "You were planning to dress up for me?"

"Well, we couldn't very well go the place decked out in full ballistic ceramic, could we?"

"I'm sure you could have pulled it off," he said, draining his own cup to hide the silly look on his face. It was common for someone to preen themselves for a potential mate, but it was more a male thing among turians. And like a proper turian male, the women he'd been attracted to before had been effortlessly beautiful, but having a female admit to putting in effort? He was ridiculously happy. Fuck, he felt as bubbly as the wine he was drinking.

Or maybe the wine itself was doing that. But still, Shepard? For him? He was laid flat.

"Pour me some more of that," she ordered between her last few bites. Her orders sound different when she's smiling around them, he has to note.

"Hmm." He surveyed the bottle again after giving her another cup. "Looks like there's only enough for one more."

"Well, drink up before it gets flat."

He grinned his mandibles wide at her and did just that, tilting his head back to catch the remainder. He heard her hum in approval.

"Trying to get me drunk, Commander?"

"Really, Garrus? From one bottle between the two of us?"

He took a glance at the label. "This stuff isn't exactly low proof, you know."

"_You_ bought it. Maybe you're trying to get _me_ drunk."

"And I hope I'm succeeding," he said boldly. Surprise flitted across Shepard's features, and her skin flushed a little, and before he could let himself gloat, he rose with the empty bottle and the remainder of his meal.

Shepard stood with him and followed. As he bent to stow his leftovers in the cooling unit, he could feel her eyes on him. Was she attracted to him? Well, no, that's a stupid question; Shepard wouldn't be on a date with a man she didn't want. Or drag him into her cabin. Or suck his cock. Shit, if she _would_, right now would be a good time to work himself up into a jealous fit over anyone before him.

"You know, it occurs to me I've never seen a naked turian ass bent over in front of me." He stood and turned towards her. Spirits, she was just centimeters away.

He stepped forward, and she took one in retreat, but it didn't wipe the off smirk so securely on her face. "Didn't think you were that kind of woman, Commander."

She gave a soft laugh, and there they were, standing chest-to-chest with all the electricity snapping and vibrating around them in the office. This feeling had slowly built up to this point and right here, right now, they felt like there was too much of it for such a small room.

"Lost your appetite, Garrus?" she teased.

He inhaled her scent, then huffed out his breath. "I was thinking about changing over to more… human tastes."

Shepard chuckled quietly again, but it dropped off to a long, heavy silence, charged by the same energy bouncing off of them. The smirk on her face dropped with it and her expressive, human eyes hooded into a smoky stare that was easy to lose time gazing into.

Garrus let the bottle clink and clatter to the floor when he grabbed her hips and pressed forward. Shepard's behind hit the desk in the middle of the room, and her hands flew up to the sides of his face to force him into a kiss. Soon he was running his tongue along the pulse in her throat, spurred on by how she gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist. He purred her name as he moved to remove her undersuit. Many-fingered hands moved along his plates, and he could feel the slight bite of the cool room before long. Her warm, soft skin turned out to be brilliant at soothing that feeling away and fanning the boiling, writhing heat just underneath.

He pulled his mouth from her nape with some effort. "I don't care if a goddamn Reaper comes through that terrace… Nothing can stop me from burying myself inside you this time."

A flush had settled across her face, but she was still able to give him a cocky look. "Even me?"

"Would you _really_ stop me?" he recounted her words at her. Shepard huffed a laugh and kissed him again, wrapping her lips around his tongue to remind him just what she was capable of. The sensation itself seemed to somehow pry his plates apart and his member pressed against the barrier of fabric between them.

As he licked, nuzzled, and nipped his way down her body in the wake of her clothes, he became aware of how his own covering had fallen loose from his shoulders and was now hanging limply from his forearms and hips. He was too busy enveloping himself in her wonderful scent to do anything about it. When his tongue swept over her soaking lower lips, he felt her hips twitch and jerk where he was holding her down. He scratched lines with his talons down her thighs in warning.

"Damnit, Garrus." Her voice was breathy and low. "I thought you were going to fuck me."

He looked up at her, taking in how she was staring down at him between her legs with such a look of frustration and need. "In good time," he said, punctuating it with another rake down her legs. She made a little sound in the back of her throat and squirmed that Garrus couldn't miss. However, Garrus also didn't miss how his claws had left jagged, red lines in her skin. It worried him; he used to clip and file his talons to keep them clean of gun oil, but he'd fallen out of the habit in Omega. If they were making ugly marks like this on her, sliding them around in more sensitive areas might be a bad idea.

"To hell with your 'in good time'!" she hissed.

He grinned up at her. There is always more than one strategy. "You need filled that badly?"

Shepard glared down at him with untold irritation. He almost laughed, but instead bent down and slowly lapped off her moisture, but took care not to part her folds and skim just over that sweet spot. She made a cry that sounded more like a whine than anything else.

"Garrus!" she huffed, already looking deliciously disheveled. "I'm too fucking wound up to take all this _teasing!_"

He chuckled and pulled back. "Well, maybe I could do something about that." With her eyes watching his every movement, he slowly turned to the side and reached over for the empty wine bottle.

"…You're _kidding_."

He only grinned up at her and positioned the lip of the bottle at her opening.

"I don't just want _anything_ in me! I want your co—" She broke off into a loud moan as he slid it in.

"Hmm?" he purred.

"Jesus!" Shepard groaned and shifted her hips uncomfortably. "Don't just shove it in like that!"

He thought of a sarcastic remark to make to that, but instead leaned in again to soothingly lick down around the neck of the bottle. "I just thought that…well… you enjoyed my tongue so much last time. And I couldn't exactly fuck you and lick up your juices at the same time, could I?"

She huffed at him, but he could hear the humor. "Since when were you such an asshole?"

"I seem to remember learning it from a certain _Spectre_ I met two years ago," he said, then licked around the bottle again. She made a sound that said she appreciated, so he started moving the bottle, slowly, in and out, tonguing around and over her clit. It was doing the trick; soon, she was pushing herself into the gradually quickening thrusts of the makeshift toy. She was still cursing at her between breaths, but the panting was getting louder and more frequent. Soon, she wasn't able to do anything but moan as he did his work. He felt a flush of pride that he was so effectively unmaking her in such little time.

He ran his claws lightly over her twitching abdomen. "Spirits, Shepard. You're just clutching at the bottle inside you. I can see the muscles twitching just under your skin. It's so…" He couldn't decide on the word he needed. Different? Alien? Erotic? He rumbled instead and bent in again to flick at her clit.

Her moans turned into squeals, and when those squeals got higher and higher, he pulled it out, but he wasn't about to let her fall from there. His tongue dipped in where the bottle left to finish the job, and she was gasping—begging even—with breathy, sing-song "oh please"s, her flesh beating against his face, her knuckles turning white where she gripped the desk so hard. When she came, it had her spine arching, her body jerking away from him and requiring his talons on her legs to rein her in and stop from falling off the desk. And, spirits, that _scream_.

Shepard collapsed on the desk with her chest heaving. He crawled up her form to take a good, close look at her flushed face, but she grabbed him by the mandibles and forced him into another kiss. Her soft, smooth tongue moved against his erratically, but slowly and less pressure than before. Hell, the way she still whimpered, he doubted she could do one of those head-spinning human kisses that felt like just a smaller act of sex. Not that this was bad. This felt the opposite of bad. This felt… loving. Like she was trying to tell him she was grateful for him and couldn't say the words. His heart clenched. He curled his fingers into her sweat-dampened hair and, when her mouth let go, he tilted her forehead into his.

"You have no idea how you make me feel," he admitted in a whisper. His erection was throbbing in obvious need to continue the biological portion of this encounter, but, somehow, he just wanted to hold her like this. Even if it was only for a little while.

"I'd like to help you feel a little more." Her voice was still raspy, and he almost laughed at how she was taking this conversation back in its original direction. "I'm sure you remember how we were interrupted in the bath, and I want to know how you taste."

He purred and nuzzled her. "Shepard," he murmured.

She gently pushed him off and he complied, collecting himself at her side. Her head, still so lain with messy, damp hair in a sprawl on the desk, turned towards him and she gave him a brilliant and genuine smile that didn't suit her. He loved it.

"Well?" A hand reached out and stroked his erection through the material.

"Did you get an allergy test from Chakwas?"

"Of course."

To give her a chance to take her breather a little longer, he removed the undersuit himself. He found some of his nervousness creeping back, but he did he best to quelch those jitters before they could effect anything, especially at this moment. He wanted so much to show her a good time, and he needed his confidence. Quickly, when he was nude, his plates fully shifted, and standing to attention, he turned towards Shepard again.

A look flitted across her face that had the nervousness crawling up again. Her brows furrowed and her eyes squared right on his cock. He would have shifted away, but her hand returned to grip around him. A groan pressed up the back of his throat.

"This-" Her thumb ran across one of the bluish nubs along his length. "-is a different cock than the one I sucked last time."

"Huh?" he answered brilliantly to her mysterious statement.

"I was sucking a well-sized blue-gray dick with ribbing last time. The one in my hands is a much bluer, possibly larger, and with enough little spikes to make a jelly dildo jealous. Exactly what's going on under that shiny hide of yours, anyway?"

Shepard's question only confused him further. Of course it looked different, then. He was so nervous he thought he would throw up. "I wasn't as... ahh... I was _aroused_, but I was trying not to show it, so..."

She quirked her brow at him.

"Don't your... your men tend to, ah, _vary_ depending on their mood? They _do_, right?"

This time her brows furrowed and she frowned. "They don't have two completely different pricks, Garrus."

He recalled the anatomy charts of the flaccid-vs-erect male human phallus, not to mention the more unfortunate run-ins in C-Sec, but it wasn't like he was an expert on alien cock. He decided to apologize and drop it. "Err, if it's a problem, I-" The words choked off when she pulled him forward by his shaft and slid her lips around him. "Ahh! Spirits, Shepard!"

She backed away with a wet _pop _of her mouth as it disconnected. "What's that?" She licked playfully along the line of nubs down from where they met the head.

He took a gasp of air. "You never warn a man a little next time before you just suck him into your mouth, do you?"

She went down and her tongue swirled around before coming back up again. "You're _complaining?_"

"Hmmm…" He felt his mandibles flutter lazily at the sensation. "I don't even know anymore…"

She made an interesting, high-pitched giggle that wouldn't normally be associated with her low, smoky voice, but it sent a twitch of arousal through him as her mouth went to work on him, going up, down, and around to massage every crevice, ridge, and bump. He fought to keep from pumping his hips to meet, but he soon had to lean heavily upon the desk to keep from collapsing. He was already going cross-eyed with pleasure by the time she started humming moans into his length, which had that whole warm, wet, vacuum-like sleeve that was her mouth mouth vibrating around him. From that point on, most concepts of thought were lost on him. Hell, if he went spontaneously blind and deaf, he wouldn't have noticed. She apparently commented on the sweetness of his natural lubricant that wasn't there before, and though he had a prepared explanation in his brain for that, actually—down to its water-solubility that had it easily dissolve in the churning bathwater—any words would have been lost in the groans of his main voice and the needy whines in his sub-vocals.

Too quickly, he found himself approaching that precipice where he'd tumble down if he didn't stop her. He couldn't hope to choke out a warning, so he fisted a hand into her hair and wrenched her away. Her eyes flew open in surprise and bewilderment, and she looked up at him with the most confused pair of eyes he'd probably ever seen on her. And maybe hurt, but that was impossible and he wouldn't think of it.

"Just a..." He gulped for air. "I want to be inside you. _With_ you, I mean."

The tension in her melted away again and she smiled beguilingly up at him. Then she pulled herself up to him, shoulder to shoulder, eye to eye, and took him in for another kiss. Kissing—now _this_ was something he was getting pretty good at. It made for a much easier, more direct way of getting his point across than actually bumbling his way through words he wasn't sure what to do with.

When her grip locked upon his back collar, he pressed forward and pulled her hips towards his. The blind movement still had his shaft pressing against something hot and soft and so slippery that when his hips jerked in surprise, he thrust his full length against her without any catches—a little unheard of before actual penetration for turians, but Shepard had already proven that cross-species intercourse had several similar _benefits_. Even better, the thrust hit her little button of a sweet spot, and she cried out. Good spirits, with all this encouragement, she was going to give him a host of bad habits before they were through.

"You waiting for my say, soldier?"

He laughed and nuzzled into the hair above her forehead like a kiss. She chuckled with him, then cupped the sides of his face against his mandibles and pulled back to look him in the eye again. Her stare was steady, but somehow didn't seem like an order, or even a grant of permission. She was _asking_. She was making a request, not a demand.

_You sure know how to make a man feel wanted, Shepard._ He held her cheek in turn and used his other hand to guide himself in. A million needles of nervousness stabbed him at once and had him inching the distance slowly. She was so, so different from a turian woman that he felt absolutely out of his depth, again, and this part was supposed to be straight forward.

A turian woman was usually sinewy with shifting grooves within, wonderfully accommodating a man with her strong, flexible muscles, though the experience could be bitterly rough if she were used to a different man. Shepard was completely different and alien, but not at all off-putting. Hell, she drew him in—literally. She was a mixture of textures and clenching muscles, sliding him easily about with her own slickness and pulling him on her own accord. He and a turian woman might lock together like cog tooth to cog tooth, but Shepard's sheath wrapped around him as snugly as a glove.

She didn't have the patience to just lay there and wait for him; her hips rolled up into his and brought him flush to her. The little motion knocked the breath out of him and he wrapped his arms around her to steady himself, his muzzle buried into her neck when he breathed again. He squeezed her against him and an involuntary, happy growl trilled through his lower registers with his exhale as he gave another little thrust.

He felt her hands run up and back along his collar. "You know, Garrus, most guys move more at this part."

"I'm so close to you," he whispered.

Shepard's body stiffened in his grasp, and she shifted herself away. His heart plummeted. _No!_ What did he say? Did he offend her? There was no way he could give up being inside her now that he had felt it. He could settle down with a turian woman and bed her every night for a century and she wouldn't fit him as well as Shepard, in so many ways.

Then her lips met his and soothed his worries. They were rough and her tongue was insistent... passionate. Kissing was a fantastic method of communication, he concluded, and he continued to slowly thrust into her, hearing as much as feeling her high-pitched mewls against his mouth.

She finally broke away with a gasp of breath. "Garrus..."

His heart clenched and he picked up the rhythm, feeling her return his movements with her gyrations. He nuzzled underneath her jawline and growled her name back at her. Her scent was doing a heavier number on his mind than the wine managed, and his harmonics whistled and moaned as he breathed into her neck.

Somehow, without him noticing it happening, their speed increased until he suddenly found his hips slamming into the soft, inviting cushion Shepard provided. He leaned over her imposingly, his fingers dug into her lovely waist, and her hands were gripping his arms hard as she stared back up into his eyes. She looked defiant—no, she looked challenging. Words weren't being said as she wailed, but her eyes didn't break from his as she ordered—oh yes, this time this was an order—him to fuck her harder, fuck her faster, don't even think about holding back if he knows what's good for him...

But then her expression changed into something of a cringe, and before he could wind himself down to a stop, her thighs caught his waist hard. That sort of action would already normally be uncomfortable, and in this heightened state it made him let out a shout of pain. She frowned apologetically and let go, but instead of uttering one syllable, she merely grunted and rolled over onto her stomach. Her ass pressed back onto his slick cock, and though this position didn't have them looking into each other's eyes, he didn't hesitate in the least to slide back in.

A thought fluttered briefly through his head to pick up the wine bottle again for use on her back entrance while he took her in this position, but retrieving it would mean separating from his place inside her for far too many seconds. Instead, he loomed over her and leaned his weight heavily into her arms at her side, pinning her as he had his way. She whined a little outside of her pleasure and he felt her arms flex under his hands. She wasn't happy being trapped. He felt a shot of smugness amid the other sensations.

But she wasn't out, yet. She turned her head as much as she could towards him and he imagined her saying, "If that's how you want to play it..." She would have, too, because she muscled herself up and back into him, throwing him back just enough to get leverage for her own hips, and she set to work against him.

It was soon becoming too much for him. Time wasn't making any sense, his tongue ran down her nape and her back and he bit shallow notches everywhere he could reach just because he liked the way her screams hitched and her core clench when he did. When her cries reached a cadence he had just newly learned and her tunnel changed suddenly from a silky embrace to a caged grip of steel, he finally lost himself. He didn't bother holding back.

Shepard shivered and whimpered as he pulled out and propped himself against her and the desk. They were silent except for their gasps of breath for several minutes, nothing else invading the peace of the room except the soft hum of various devices within and encasing the room. Then, she suddenly started laughing, and he was laughing with her, and with great effort in propping herself on an arm, she turned enough in his tired arms to kiss him again.

"You ruined me, Vakarian." She smiled. "I'm not going to be able to walk out of here for a while."

"We'll just sleep here and run back to the _Normandy_ in the morning," he purred softly.

She gave a slight scoff. "Where?"

"The couch folds out."

There was a pause before she started laughing again. "There was a bed here this whole time? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Two reasons. It would have taken far too much time I could have been using eating your wonderful pussy out."

"Hmm." Her grin was almost child-like and she might have blushed.

"And I always wanted to have desk sex."

"Desk sex?"

"Sex on a desk."

"Well, _obviously_," she huffed and kissed him again. Then again. They almost didn't make it to the couch the second time around.

* * *

><p>When Garrus woke, it took half a second to remember where he was, another half to remember why he was there, and by the end of that second he realized that the body in the bed with him was a naked Commander Shepard. He closed his eyes again and breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. The whole experience was something decadent and precious and insane all rolled in one night and he wanted to savor every second, every breath, every particle, and every happily tired muscle.<p>

This was the second time he slept along side Shepard. That first time was in a much more comfortable bed, and her scent clung on him the entire day after. Today he was soaked through his plates with her essence, and damn if he didn't love that. And she'd have his scent on her. His mandibles fluttered a little at the silent, giddy laugh he had when he thought of that.

From her slow, even breaths, he could tell she was still asleep. It was hard wearing her out, it turned out. Despite being a squishy human, Shepard took more work to completely incapacitate than any female he bedded before. It took very little rest for her to bounce back up and swing her hips over his. Maybe walking was out of the question for her, but she could _ride_ until the sun went down.

He considered cuddling up to her, then thought that maybe she needed her sleep. Then he wondered what time it was, and was thoroughly bothered. Crap, they only had a twelve-hour docking, not even a proper shore leave. They didn't have time to lounge around and pretend the rest of the galaxy wasn't spinning. He sighed and went to convincing himself to pulling up his omni-tool to look at the time.

There was a soft click that alerted him, and then it occurred to Garrus that maybe something outside woke him up. A clatter of something being dropped on the ground, maybe, just beside the door. Whether he actually remembers hearing that or not was besides the point; that click was the lock. A million possible enemies zipped through his head, and he took no time at all to snatch up his assault rifle and aim it directly at the opening door.

* * *

><p>A few of you, I'm sure, could guess what happens next.<p> 


	17. The Princess and the Pea

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

My readers are smarter than I am. "Most of" turned out to be "practically all". I'm going to try to get at least one more chapter of this and a chapter of Last Reaper out before October. It's the least I could do.

* * *

><p>As the door slid open, there was a flutter of movement on the other side that Garrus might have missed if he wasn't watching. Ah, so whoever opened it caught a glimpse of his rifle and went into cover. They still had to move, so maybe they didn't expect him to be there, or at least awake, but the movement to correct that showed that they had some knowledge and experience in dealing with hostiles in an unsecured area. So... great. He was likely dealing with a professional. He momentarily considered waking up Shepard before he came to the quick conclusion he should move his starting position before making any noise.<p>

As he slipped out of the sheets and started moving to the side, he sensed movement where his contender hid, and he dropped into a roll to a more protected position just as the intruder showed himself. A turian, pistol out to follow just as Garrus's rifle readjusted to the target, and Garrus suddenly found himself in a complete, and quite silent, stand-off with only the whirring of activated weapons and Shepard's light snoring playing in the room. Not that he could hear it as his heart thundered, even as he stayed completely still in a crouch.

Then, he recognized the face behind the pistol and he lowered the rifle. "Dad?"

"...Garrus?" The man's mandibles tightened and he lowered his own weapon. "Is that—spirits be, what happened to your face?"

He almost laughed at the break of tension. "You think that's bad, you should see the other guy."

"What the hell happened when you there on Omega?" The pistol went back into its holster. "Nevermind that… Where have you _been?_ I had no idea you were even on Omega and keeping in contact with Sol until she got worried about not hearing from you and called me."

Ah, yes. He'd asked her not to divulge to his father about any of that, but not talking for a month would probably have her breaking it out of concern. He couldn't really blame her. "I'm sorry. A lot of things have been happening and… if I contacted you, I'm sure you would have had something to say about what I was doing."

His father rumbled. "You're not going to clarify any of that, are you. At least tell me you're back on the Citadel for good. I don't even care if you're continuing your Spectre training or not; having you drop out of existence has been hell for your family. Did Sol even get a chance to tell you about your mother?"

"Did something happen to Mom in the hospital?" Garrus was startled out of inquiring further when he heard some shifting of sheets behind him. Damn, he'd all but forgotten that Shepard was in the room with him. He froze, hoping simultaneously that she wouldn't wake up and that his father didn't notice the potential audience to their already blooming argument.

He got half his wish. Shepard groaned and turned over, no doubt exposing some of the bare flesh to the cool air of the room in the process, but remained fast asleep. This would have struck Garrus as strange since he would have pegged her as a light sleeper, but was too busy silently pleading for this result. His father, on the other hand, took a keen interest in whatever was making these sleepy noises and went up to take a look. Garrus cringed and turned with him.

There were many awkward times in Garrus's life up to this point, but he wasn't prepared for the strong inclination to look to the floor and shuffle his feet like a child who knew he was in trouble as his father—rightly shocked—silently examined just what he was looking at. Shepard's scarless face was relaxed and smooth of lines, reminding him of when he found her sleeping in cryo. There were more minor movements, this time: her eyes fluttered back and forth underneath her lids, sometimes a brow would furrow or a corner of her mouth would pull one way or the other, or her lips would purse and press. He would have loved to watch her face quietly any other time, but all he could think about right now was how his father must have been scrutinizing every little twitch.

Eventually, the retired C-Sec agent did speak. "Not that I expected it of you, but waking up with a dead hooker is a common enough scenario on the Citadel I could at least figure out where to start. A dead human Spectre, on the other hand?"

So, his father recognized her. Garrus wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "Not sure if that joke's particularly funny given the situation."

"Like I said, I have no idea what to do in such a scenario, so _forgive_ me if my attempt at humor doesn't effectively diffuse the situation for either of us," he grumbled sarcastically. "But you could help me out here by explaining how it is there's a naked human female that shares a passing resemblance to Commander Shepard in my office."

Shepard rolled over again and their scents, disturbed from where they rested in the sheets, floated up. There would be no doubt as to what she and Garrus were doing, so he figured he might as well come clean. "She doesn't just resemble Shepard. Shepard—her body—was requisitioned and rebuilt by Cerberus, but they lost track of her on Omega. I found her there. But, we're… working with Cerberus. For now."

He turned towards Garrus. "Rebuilt? …Working with _Cerberus?_"

"For now!" Garrus cut in before his father could judge. "I know even the human Alliance considers the group terrorists, and my mind isn't completely changed about them, but…"

Shepard rolled over again, and suddenly she was awake. Garrus felt his muscles seize up; aren't humans usually very particular about who sees them nude? And here he was, having a conversation with his father right over her the whole time. She didn't even glance in their direction, and instead pulled up to sit on the side of the bed, head down. She was still a long moment with a concentrated frown on her face that Garrus could hardly see from this angle, and then a hand reached up and over her shoulder, her fingers reaching along her back.

Garrus couldn't make what she was doing. She looked to be aiming for a specific spot in her mid-upper-back, already reaching far better than a turian could ever manage and still yet not reaching her goal. Maybe something was itching her back it and woke her up? She _did_ look particularly annoyed. Trying his best to ignore his father's inquisitive eyes, Garrus moved up near her and reached out his own talons to scratch where Shepard couldn't reach on her back. Shepard must not have expected it, because his nails hardly touched her skin before she flew around with a jerk to face him.

"You, ah, looked to have been trying to scratch your back and couldn't reach the spot."

She only blinked at him, making his knotted stomach wrench even more.

"I mean, turians can't reach that far either, so if we can't get a stick, their mate would usually scratch it for them." Waaaiiit, _mate?_ She _just woke up_ and he's stupid, heavy, presumptive things like that? "Otherwise being unable to get around our own cowls to pick off parasites would have killed us off." Yes, because the first thing she'd want to hear about in the morning would be Palaven ticks. "And, well, you know, I'll always have your back." Great, finish it off with a lame pun. Between this and his father, he really should just shoot himself.

The look on her face was mysterious until she finally registered the extra turian behind. Her eyes bugged, and though he never considered Shepard shy, she did move her arms to cover her body. "Uh, who is that?"

"This is my father. It's… a long story, but trust me, if I thought there was any chance of him walking in here, we'd be on the _Normandy_ right now."

"I'm sure the story isn't quite as long as how _you_ ended up here," his father added.

"I think you have me at more than a little bit of a disadvantage here, sir," Shepard said, then rose to her feet and snatched up her undersuit. "I think I'll get showered and dressed. Garrus, is there a bathroom in this place?"

"Behind you to your right." He gestured to the thin, closet-like door. She nodded and disappeared where he directed.

Garrus tentatively looked back at his father. "I'm sure that you have more than a few criticisms to list for me on this whole thing."

His father huffed. "Frankly, Garrus, I'm still trying to decide if it's better for my son to have a fetish for prostitutes that resemble a dead human Spectre, or for him to be in a relationship with that same Spectre, rendered undead by the involvement of a _human supremacist organization_. I might go with the first one since the prospect of such a group having the ability to control life and death is _terrifying_."

"You're not mentioning how unlikely it is, or how I've obviously gone insane after I went to Omega."

"This woman walks and talks like the Commander Shepard in the vids. She looks to have the same structure though she does lack the facial scars I remember from two years ago. But more than all that, _you're_ convinced of her identity, and you've obviously been—" He coughed. "—intimate with her. If she's an impostor, then she's a damn good one."

"She's not an impostor," Garrus shot back with resolve.

"I believe you, but I'm not going so far as writing off that you _might_ have knocked a few things loose up in that head in yours while you were gallivanting in Omega. She admitted that she's in connection with Cerberus, yet here you are, and I'm sure you've been fighting by her side this entire time, too. You don't suppose that your infatuation with her has blinded you? She may have faked her death to leave her Alliance and is using you to help in mercenary work."

"_Dad._ I found her on Omega, and even before we figured out that Cerberus brought her back, she was working to get back into the fight against the Reapers. You know, the _Reapers_. One of them was impaled _not too far from here on the Citadel_. Or do you believe the official story, as well?"

His father grimaced. "All I know about the Geth attack is what went through the media. I never heard your take on the whole matter with Saren. You never _told_ me."

"I… Telling you might not be such a good idea."

"Why is that?"

"Well, if I seem unhinged to you with what I told you _now_, I'm sure telling you everything would have you checking me away into a medical facility."

His father opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, brows furrowing in such a way that… he almost looked hurt. "Garrus, hearing anything from you right now would be better than the silence I've been getting _longer_ than these past two years. Since you joined C-Sec, we've fight every time we talked and it put a chilling effect on every conversation we have."

"I didn't originally want to join C-Sec," Garrus was quick to point out.

"I know." He started pacing, one hand coming up to run over his forehead. "I've dealt with Spectres before while in C-Sec. Hell, I've dealt with Saren, and I could have told anyone who asked he was the worst of them. Others may play fast and loose, but Saren outright fabricated reports if it suited him. That is, if there were any reports I actually got my hands on. You should have seen the amount of classified data I couldn't touch concerning the whole issue with his brother Desolas." He turned towards Garrus. "Nevermind that I've had to do the paperwork when a couple of those Spectres found themselves and their compatriots killed by their duties. Do you know how high the mortality rate that line of work is? It's staggering, I can tell you that."

"You're not going to go into all the reasons you interfered with my career choices to protect me, again, are you?"

"I'm not… That's not what I'm trying to say. You went with a freshly-appointed, completely untested Spectre from a new race in the community to take Saren and his geth down… and you _succeeded_. But you weren't back from the mission for three months before you vanished. Wouldn't any father want to know his son's version of what happened?"

Well, that caught Garrus off-guard. His mandibles clattered to press against his face and he took a moment to set himself right before speaking. "I… guess you do deserve to know."

* * *

><p><em>The air is depleting rapidly from the suit. There's a hissing noise at her back. A rupture? She sees the stream of air as it escapes into the vacuum of space over her shoulder. It has to be plugged up, but she can't reach. Damn it, she just can't reach it…<em>

Shepard didn't expect to wake up to Garrus and his father looming over her, but, to be completely honest, she wasn't entirely expecting to wake up. Not that she even noticed either of them at first; she was too busy remembering the rising heat and swelling as the suit decompressed. When she woke, she felt like she had to touch that spot where the air was leaking, even if it wasn't actually happening any more. But even without the bulky shoulders of her suit to hinder her, she apparently wasn't limber enough.

It bothered the hell out of her.

Maybe the likelihood of the same exact thing happening to her this round was pretty slim, but she couldn't help but decide that her death was due to some weakness on her part. She wasn't fully prepared, and, as a result, paid the ultimate price. Not satisfied by this conclusion, she kept stretching her fingers in attempt to prove herself wrong.

And then Garrus touched her back, and said the most perfect thing.

_"I'll always have your back."_

God, he didn't even know how much she appreciated him at that moment.

A sonic shower rather than the traditional water one Shepard had gotten used to had several advantages, but none of those applied to her current situation. Instead of letting herself drift off into different thoughts—about her dream, about her death, about how wonderful Garrus apparently is—while she soaped and rinsed herself, she had to go through the motions of exposure to the waves and keep count of her time in each position to make sure every inch of her was clean without the guide suds or water. Arms up, count, about face, count, face forward, count, chin up, count, chin down, count…

The silence of the shower, despite its name, made it so that Shepard heard the rise and fall of voices in the next room. She couldn't hear most of the words clearly, but she could hear the anger and resentment they both had. She didn't even want to know what they were arguing about, but she could guess that she had something to do with it.

Would she have to defend Garrus when she was finished? She'd do so in a heartbeat. Absolutely no one in the galaxy was there for her the way he was, and it didn't hurt that he was a damn fine and loyal soldier. And, well, maybe he was a little more to her than that, now. Just a touch of thoughts into the night before—the things he did, the words he said, the way he brought the phrase "making love" to a whole new level—had her heartbeat racing and her hips squirming. His voice saying those ridiculously beautiful and erotic things still resonated through her whole body like a heavy church bell even the next morning.

"_I can see the muscles twitching just under your skin."_

"_You have no idea how you make me feel."_

"_I want to be inside you."_

"_I'm so close to you."_

He sounded so goddamn _worshipful _as he said all this. She wasn't sure if her reaction rush she was getting was just from the newness of this whole relationship, or if there was something stirring in her outside of plain old lust and camaraderie. Even with all the surprises, the night was simply perfect for the both of them, outside some irritation on her inner-thighs she didn't expect. If a guy tried this method of wining-and-dining with her before, she might've been a little kinder to her past love interests.

And… damn it, she lost count. And now there's a whole new slickness running down her legs she would have to clean. She would go back to the Normandy and use a real shower with soap and shampoo, but turians seemed to have a pretty good grasp on what a horny human smelled like. Or at least Garrus seemed to have an appreciation for it in her case. She was going to make a wild guess and assume his father didn't share that interest, but might share the ability.

The slight vibration emanating from the speakers in the wall, however, wasn't doing much to _stop_ the flow coming from her awakened sex even as she cleaned it. Damn, this shower must've been an older model if she could actually feel everything moving around. She didn't exactly want to get off in the shower while her (boyfriend? fuckbuddy?) friend and his father were just in the other room. She swiped a hand at the controls to turn it off and quit while she was ahead.

Garrus and his father silenced suddenly as soon as she entered the room, so she did her best to ignore it and pull on her armor as efficiently as she could. After a few beats, she felt Garrus move up to her side.

"Shepard, could you hold off on disembarking the ship for a bit? Father and I have to—" He stopped and inhaled in a way that was supposed to be subtle but failed. "-Wow. Even in the morning, you're insatiable."

Okay, at that smug tone of his, she couldn't help but smile. "Don't let me distract you from your conversation."

"Too late." His mandibles spread wide in a grin and he bent in to nuzzle at her temple. Garrus's father merely watched on impassively as his son rumbled into his human commander's ear.

She almost wanted to giggle at the sensation of it. "I swear, you sound like an approaching thunderstorm when you purr at me like that." Then added, almost as an afterthought, "You smell a little like one, too."

He pulled back from her and gave her one of those mysteriously hopeful stares he'd given her before. At the same time, his father laughed. "Commander Shepard, I wasn't aware you read turian poetry."

She blinked at the older turian and furrowed her brow. "I don't."

He continued laughing while Garrus ducked his head and coughed, as if embarrassed. Shepard repressed a frown. She probably said something strange culturally.

The chuckles died down. "It's… interesting to meet you, but, if you don't mind, I would like to speak with my son in private. Although I would like to… spare some words for you later." That last bit sounded a little like a threat, but it was so framed in amicability that she wasn't sure what to make of it.

She gave a curt nod and checked her latches one last time for her armor and weapons before she went for the door. "Understood. Take your time. I'll see you back at the _Normandy_, Garrus."

"Yes, Shepard."

She turned to spare him another glance, then gave his father another nod before exiting. Once in the hallway, she took a brisk march to the nearest elevator._ Well, that could have been more awkward._ Like, her father could have tried to start an argument with her. Or, he could have attacked her, and then she would be walking back to the ship with the full knowledge that she killed her boyfriend's father.

A father who surprised him in more ways than just "standing over her while she was naked and asleep". The way Garrus described him, she expected him to be more like Executor Pallin, except somehow more crotchety and with identical colony markings to Garrus. Of course, his markings weren't quite the same as his son's, but what really surprised him was that, even though he didn't look to have all that much physically in common with Garrus more than any other turian, he still… talked like Garrus. Not the same voice, but something about the speech patterns translated into the same humor. It made her want to laugh and point it out to Garrus, but she doubted that he would really want to be told he inherited any of his personality from his father.

The elevator was one of the longer rides, so she took this chance to radio in about the delay in their schedule. "_Normandy_, this is Shepard."

"_Hey, Commander,"_ Joker's voice answered, _"We were wondering when you were going to buzz in. The whole crew is present and accounted for except for you and the turians. We were even shooting around the idea of getting a pool running on why you three were still out."_

She was sure she wasn't interested in all the details of what options the pool had. "Well, you sound chipper for a hungover man."

"_Yeah, well, I tried to drink a little bit, but it didn't turn out to be as fun as I hoped and, ah, you know. Didn't seem right to leave the _Normandy_ in port while I partied. She might get lonely without me."_

He must've just brought something to the deck and muted EDI, instead. Figures, though, since the SR-1's fall was so certainly hard for him to accept. "You said Melanis was still out? Are you sure?"

This time it was EDI's voice. "I can confirm that all crew and others who have taken residence on the ship are present except you, Mr. Vakarian, and Melanis. The appointed time to the end of our scheduled docking is in fourty-nine minutes. Should I request an extension?"

Good lord, was she that late getting out? "Yes, EDI. I'll go find Melanis myself. I should still have her omni-tool's signature logged. She was pretty drunk last night, so she might not be able to answer to a comm. request."

"Understood, Commander."

Shepard simultaneously pulled up a map of the Citadel and scanned for Melanis while dialing a call for her. Apparently, a mercenary career does not replace military citizenship for turians as a means of teaching someone how to keep out of trouble while off duty, because not only did Shepard get no answer, but when Melanis's position came up, her status from came up as critical.

_Garrus, I swear, your team is going to mean my second death._

It took half a second for her to decide to contact Garrus after she got to the scene and surveyed it, since his father would likely come, and there's always the chance that more people would just mean more attention and thus more trouble. She moved quickly, took only transits she knew she could hack to rev up the speed in, and found herself, strangely enough, walking into the lobby of a fancy hotel close to the Presidium. Yeah, no, this didn't bode well at all. It was a good thing all she had was her armor to wear this morning.

She considered going up to the desk and demanding keycodes to the doors in the place with her Spectre status, but that was only just reinstated, and it was more in name than in function. Nevermind that she was very publically declared dead two years ago and no one has really gone out of their way to correct that. Besides, the longer she stood around arguing with a secretary, the longer it was going to take to find Melanis.

The time to get to Melanis's room was the time it took for the elevators to transport her and to bring out her gun. No one was in the hallway, but with all these doors on either side, there was plenty of room for an ambush and would be difficult to properly secure. She opted for just approaching quietly and started hacking the door, an omni-tool command at the ready in case she need to disappear quick. A little bit of circuit-following, and the door swished open under her command. She tucked herself into cover a moment, then rolled her shoulder against the wall out to scan the area with her pistol.

The room was trashed like the set of a bar fight in an old movie. Any furniture that could be broken, was. Bedding was ripped up and strewn in random areas, and fragile electronics blizzed softly from their broken lines exposed to air. Shards of pottery and glass crunched under her feet as she stepped in.

"Shepard?"

She arced her sites over to the voice, then lowered her weapon. "Melanis? What the hell happened here?"

Melanis, despite the destruction surrounding her, seemed completely unharmed, albeit jittery and exhausted. "It's... I had a fucked up night. I was drunk and... there was someone and..." Her mandibles tightened and she shook her head. "It got really fucked up. I'm not even sure what happened or what I was thinking."

"I'm not following. Did you get so sloshed you decided to fuck a krogan?" That would explain all the broken furniture. She put away the pistol.

"No. I mean, I was pretty bad, but..."

"Look, you don't have to tell me what happened. But if you're hurt, I need to know if I should leave you at a medical facility here or have you treated at the ship."

The turian shook her head. "I'm not hurt. I did all of this." She gestured around and, seeing the question in Shepard's eyes, said, "I was angry. And drunk."

"Does it have to do with Garrus?"

"Wha-No. No, not that at all. I'm over that. I really am." She looked at Shepard helplessly. "I was just... I was stupid."

Shepard was curious, but this really wasn't any of her business. She could reprimand her for still being in this room and not making herself available for contact when the ship was—originally—supposed to be decoupling, soon. She settled for a mild admonishment. "You know, you scared the hell out of me when I couldn't get a hold of you and your signal came up as critical. Nevermind _this_ mess."

"Oh! Oh fuck, I guess it would come up as critical." Melanis turned, her eyes sweeping the room, and then ducked down to pull up what looked like somewhat damaged hardware for an omnitool. She clipped it over her wrist and ran some simple programs on it to determine if it still worked. "I sort of ripped this off last night without thinking. The background processes must have put up alerts when they suddenly couldn't see my vitals, anymore. Uh, does Garrus know about this?"

"No, he's a bit... indisposed at the moment, and I thought it would be better to check this out before sending him word."

"I'm glad you did. He doesn't need to know his stupid teammate got drunk and ripped up a fancy hotel suite."

On the way down, Shepard looked over her budget, trying her best in her head to determine what the damage in the room would cost them, and wondering if she should offer Melanis help in paying the bill. Melanis, on the other hand, seemed completely fine with just walking through the lobby with a brisk walk and no glances to anything except the door. Shepard sighed and grabbed her by the arm before she had the chance, then went to the desk.

"Excuse me," Shepard said with her grip tight on the turian beside her, "I need to talk to someone about paying for the damage in a room above."

The asari looked up from her datapad and smiled, then looked over at the guest of the room in question. "Oh yes, I remember you. There's no worry. Your friend payed up front for the bill and any expenses when he left this morning."

Shepard's eyebrow rose, and she looked over at Melanis, who's mandibles fluttered in the same sort of embarrassment she had gotten used to seeing on Garrus.

No, it wasn't any of her business, but damn if she wasn't curious.


	18. The Pot Bears a Son

Disclaimer: The first chapter.

I'm sorry about the delay. October was a crazy month over here, and November hasn't been much better. I was going to make a long A/N about some of the slut shaming I've been seeing in the reviews on this site—in and of itself not surprising, except that they were for a Mass Effect fic and directed towards the author's femShep as an attempt to shame the author herself. Honestly, people. We're sci-fi fans, ones who like the idea of strong women. We shouldn't be saying this crap just because of how an author chooses to have her Shepard express her sexuality.

I also want to give you guys a sincere "thank you"; I have, apparently, been writing this story for a year now, which is several months longer than what I had originally intended, but you, my dear readers, have stuck with me patiently despite my update times running to ridiculous levels to, quite often, just get a lot of teasing. Really, you are all saints to put up with me.

And thanks again to dannybates, who seems to always be there to poke me when I need to be poked.

* * *

><p>The whole story—from the very beginning of his investigation into Saren two years ago to now—was very hard to get going. Garrus was so acutely aware of how his father criticized his methods before in C-Sec, how open he was in his disdain for Spectres, and joining one Spectre to go after another sounded like the worst start to an already improbable tale. He chose his words slowly and carefully at first, and let his voice sound tight in favor of it shaking and stuttering.<p>

But the halting words turned smoother and easier as he saw his father just patiently listening with none of the usual judgment in his eyes. He was just waiting until he got all of the available information to parse through and put together. It reminded Garrus that his father was a professional outside of his family life, and with that, he only wanted to present all the facts, every bit that could even somewhat be considered.

Event after event and battle after battle came from him, and it wasn't until the all the words were scraped out and lay exposed between the two turians that Garrus fell back into the cushions of the folded-up couch. His father reacted similarly, visibly exhaling as he straightened his back and looked up to the ceiling. The room, that had been full of Garrus's voice, turned silent for several long seconds.

His father spoke first. "Reapers…"

"Yeah." Garrus's own voice was now dry and rough from use.

His father nodded. "I'll need to talk to Fedorian. It's a good thing I'm already at the Citadel; he's at the military convention and there's really no better time to bring it up to him, especially since we've already lost two years on this."

"You… believe me?"

"I'd like to do some more fact-checking on my own part before I present it to him, but a cursory of official numbers—" He gestured to his own visor, obviously connected to the Extranet. "—from Saren's conflict at the Citadel supports your story. And you're the closest to the actual events besides Shepard herself, and even if she _is_ insane, I doubt that she could have commanded with such great respect and efficiency while operating under such a delusion. So, I'm convinced. I don't know about the primarch, but hopefully we have enough time to work on him between now and when they get here in force."

"Not that I would turn down anything the primarch would provide to the cause, but are you sure about that? Shepard couldn't convince the council two years ago, and she's much more persuasive than I am."

"The council then is dead now, and it sounds like Anderson already has Shepard's back on this. If we start now, gain evidence, and present the reports as they come, we can get what we need. Even if I can't get Fedorian on this immediately, I know him. I know how to talk to him and wear him down. But you can't shut me out, anymore. We're in this investigation together, this time, and we'll need each other."

"I… well, I'll to make a secure channel. It may be difficult with Cerberus, so don't be surprised if it takes a while before I can contact you again. You mentioned a military convention?"

"The convention for the official forces within council space. I was invited this time, and I'm pretty sure you would have been, too, if anyone could get a hold of you." He took a moment to think. "Actually, if you had time, I'm sure I could get you in tonight."

"I really doubt Shepard would take more time out for it when she's already extending our stay here unexpectedly."

"You don't have to be here for the whole convention to get your point across, and what you managed two years ago will afford you more than a little respect." He shrugged and shook his head. "The mission takes precedence, but think about it."

"I'll run it by her." Garrus paused for a beat and stood, too aware of how much time had passed but unwilling to just cut off his time with his father like an ungrateful child. "I'm sorry. I should head back to the ship pretty soon."

"One more thing. About Shepard—" He paused a long moment as Garrus cringed, getting ready for the inevitable argument. Instead, he shrugged. "You know what? I'm going to leave that for a later discussion, though I do think it's odd that a human can discern a turian mating scent."

The relief Garrus felt was quickly swept aside with that observation. Even among turians, it was subtle, since even the creatures they descended from mostly used vocal calls to indicate willingness to mate. Not that she didn't seem to appreciate his growls _(an approaching thunderstorm—wow!)_ "Maybe Cerberus upgraded her senses to be able to detect more chemicals."

"I suppose that's a possibility, though it boggles the mind why such a thing as our natural musk should be included." His father leveled a stare on him. "Just… be careful. And keep professional. The mission is the most important thing, right now. You can't let anything jeopardize that."

If his father started the conversation saying that, Garrus would have risen to a fight easily to the implication, however slight, that he was still a petulant child prone to hasty and wrong-headed decisions. But, for now, Garrus could see how much had been sacrificed in tone and stalwart direction in favor of learning his side of the story, so he responded with a nod.

* * *

><p>The delay in leaving the dock made for an unfortunate domino effect for Shepard. As she waited for Garrus to return, Chambers was quick to remind her of the many messages that were waiting for her on her terminal and that the Illusive Man wished to have a word with her on the quantum entanglement communicator. Soon enough, she found herself coming back and forth from various parts of the Citadel, performing even more errands while she groused over the delay that was partially her own fault in happening.<p>

The last time she marched in through the ship and Kelly dared to look up to speak, she sent her such a glare that had the yeoman wilting under her eyes. Still, she soldiered on to speak, "No more messages, Commander."

Shepard deflated just enough for the self-satisfied huff she made in response. "Good. I've had enough running around and we've got work to do at _Not The Goddamn Citadel_. Is everyone present and accounted for?"

"Yes, ma'am. We're ready to go on your order."

She gave a nod and went up the ramp overseeing the navigation controls. As the course was plotted underneath her fingertips, she spared not even a glance over at Kelly. "It should take an hour or so—Joker and EDI will confirm ETA—but until then I need you to do something, Yeoman."

"Commander?"

"Melanis may not have gotten over what happened to the rest of their team on Omega and it could affect her performance during missions. I want you to meet with her."

"With all due respect, I can't just force therapy on potential patients if they are unwilling. It's unethical."

Shepard tried not to groan in disbelief and settled for rubbing a temple. Yeah, _unethical_. Sure would have been nice for someone to tell that to the busybody psychiatrists in the Alliance she had been ordered into sessions with. "I don't care how you approach her, Chambers, just do your job. Melanis had trashed a hotel room last night for reasons she didn't properly explain, and I don't want a potentially loose cannon on my ship."

If Kelly had any more complaints, she knew well enough to not voice them. Shepard directed her attention back to the map before her.

Shepard didn't even bother leaving the bridge until it was time to pile into the Kodiak, still in an openly sour mood. Mierin, giddy in her chance use her biotics off the ship, was the first to report. Shepard gave her a curt nod towards the shuttle, then scanned the area for the remaining teammate. Right when she was about to let the anger crawl over her shoulders and take her over, the newest crewmember, bidden by the Illusive Man to collect just before leaving the Citadel, shimmered into view in front of her.

"Reporting for duty, Shep. Glad you want to bring me out so soon."

Shepard thought about letting her distaste show on her face. The happy-go-lucky attitude Kasumi Goto had might cease to bother her once the thief proves herself useful. Really, Shepard's only worry was that there would be two persons on the field going in and out of view with the remaining one used to being biotic support rather than someone more accustomed to tanking. Still, if things got hot, it wasn't like Shepard was afraid to go up to the enemy and start punching, and she needed to test both of them sooner rather than later, but she was on edge, and after running herself ragged earlier in the day and getting surprised by her boyfriend's father while she herself was naked, the last thing she wanted was a smart mouth.

Well, Garrus's mouth could be pretty smart, but, right now, it was time to kill things.

"Well, I need to see what sort of skills someone that Cerberus saddles me with have before I do anything really ambitious like suicide missions."

"Hmm, I so what I heard about you being a workaholic was right. Then it's a good thing I'm here. You'll like what I'm doing with the Port Observation Deck."

"…What?"

"Don't worry. It was actually already there, just locked away, and no one put it all together. I think our sponsor might have changed his mind about what to do with it before they found you." Kasumi's painted lips pulled up and she glided in to find her seat. Shepard stood in her wake with a sour look on her face, only just deciding to go into the shuttle when Chambers decided this was the perfect time to interrupt her, again.

"Commander, I spoke with Melanis like you asked, and—"

"Can this wait, Yeoman? We're about to go planet-side."

"I—" Kelly seemed to consider the question uneasily, then shook her head. "She said something a little disturbing, and it may be something you need to be aware of for disciplinary purposes."

"_May_ be?" Great, the mission was on a standstill because her on-board psychologist didn't ask specific enough questions. "Yeoman, if you aren't even _certain_, you can report to me after the mission."

"But…" Kelly looked even more unsatisfied, her features wringing up in conflict. At what seemed like an impulse decision, she brought up her omni-tool and typed in something. "I know you have to leave, but this is something that warrants privacy. This is the phrase she told me, after which she shut down the conversation completely and fled to her duties. I'm sure you'll understand why you need to know about them."

Maybe the Illusive Man hired Kelly Chambers to try Shepard's patience. Instead of telling her off again—she did, after all, do what she was ordered—she pulled up her own omni-tool and read the short, one-line message that pinged onto her display.

And her sour expression fell to a blank one.

"You decided to insist on giving me this kind of bombshell right before combat, Yeoman?"

"I apologize, ma'am. I would have come sooner if it was a possibility, and I figured you would want to know sooner rather than later."

Shepard couldn't fault her on that logic, so she gave a nod. "I'll speak with Melanis myself when I get back. Until then, she's relieved of any duties."

"Understood."

Shepard dismissed her and ducked into the shuttle, ignoring the very interested looks of the women across from her and forcing her mind on the mission ahead, away from the message she was currently wiping from the memory of her omni-tool.

* * *

><p>One does not work in the Alliance for the length of time Dr. Karin Chakwas did, alongside the N7s she'd been proud to call her brothers-in-arms, without knowing a little bit about how foolhardy their natures can get with every little edge they have, whether it's from training, experience, or armament. Captain Anderson was absolutely a perfect picture of this, who was only able to put down his control point of every combative mission when Shepard was brought in to, essentially, replace the aging N7 on the battlefield, and Shepard herself was eager to prove the rule.<p>

That was the mentality that had Shepard unconscious in her medbay this time (and, arguably, every other time). The extraordinary healing ability gifted to her by Cerberus became a calculated asset in Shepard's head rather than a latch-ditch effort that shouldn't be so heavily relied upon. Which made sense for Shepard; she enjoyed manipulating the battlefield personally, so if she saw a gap, she'd swap over to the proper instrument and act on it, which meant if she can do close-combat, she will do close-combat.

Shepard, expecting her healing ability to work as usual, threw herself a little more in the vanguard than she should have. Because of certain circumstances, however, her wounds would not seal without aid. The mission was still a success, but it ended with her dragging herself to Chakwas with her own hands crusted with blood and medi-gel.

It didn't take long for the doctor to determine what had compromised Shepard's synthetic systems, and, after a stern lecture, she put Shepard under, called up Mordin, and the two of them quickly went to work reworking the bio-regulation system's priorities so that a staggered induction of dextro-amino-based proteins wouldn't unnecessarily bog down her processes again.

Mordin seemed similarly annoyed when he was explained the problem. "Warned the commander about this. Perhaps should have explained reasons more thoroughly."

"I didn't even know this sort of thing was going on," Chakwas said bitterly, "Nothing against Garrus—he's always been the right sort even if he could be a little stiff—but it would have never occurred to me that the stern and loyal marine that is Commander Shepard would involve herself that way with a turian. If I had, maybe I could have thought about doing something about this error a lot sooner."

"Didn't suspect the relationship was a secret. Due to this being a Cerberus ship, perhaps?"

"They probably just didn't want to disrupt the mission with something by being open about two officers of differing ranks in a relationship, though you might have a point about this being Cerberus. But if those two are going to be so careful about keeping this thing private, the least they could do is show some forethought into the actual act." Chakwas frowned and looked over to the ship's intercom console. "EDI, please have Garrus Vakarian come here as soon as he's free. I'd like to have a word with him."

"As you wish, Doctor."

Mordin leaned away from his work. "Consultation. Good idea."

"Actually, I was just thinking about yelling at him," she admitted. It wasn't much after that when Garrus himself walked through the doors.

"Doctor, I heard you…" His dual-toned words drifted off when he caught sight of Shepard, laying unconscious on the gurney. "What happened?"

"The commander is fine, Garrus. Dr. Solus and I just had to put her under while we reworked her nanobiotic immune system's priorities. She wasn't aware that they weren't able to handle a staggered induction of your turian proteins from _three_ different induction points and the confusion compromised her cybernetic healing capabilities. Everything is fixed up and she'll be out and at a hundred percent when she wakes up, which shouldn't be long as she's notoriously difficult to keep sedated." Chakwas almost smiled when she reminded herself of that. It was mentioned in Lawson's report that Shepard was even waking up while they were putting her together, so even Cerberus had to deal with her stubbornness.

"That's… good. Three induction points? I mean… _oh_." The turian's mandibles flattened against his plated face, and his head turned down just slightly, making him the most bashful she'd ever seen of his race. "I had… no idea that I could put her in jeopardy like that."

"It's not an issue now," Chakwas barked quickly. She didn't want him coming out of her office with the wrong idea. "We fixed the priorities, like I said. Humans can process wrong-handed proteins into what we need to survive, actually. They exist in our ecosystem, though in a minority. But it doesn't mean we should go trying to subsist purely on alien cuisine without checking it through, and Shepard's current immune system hadn't been properly introduced to it. It bogged down the processes, and since they were busy figuring out what to do with what you left in her—" She saw him flinch a little at that. "—they couldn't close her wounds properly. It's not a problem anymore, but she should have told me about your relationship. And _so should you have_."

"I… didn't think it was anything of medical importance."

"It's _absolutely_ something of medical importance! Hell, Garrus, we humans have to ask our patients all the time about their sexual status to make sure they can stay on top of any variables that could be important to their diagnosis. If two of my crewmates are regularly sleeping together, I damn well expect them to tell me what's going on. These matters are confidential. Even in the Alliance, I wouldn't be reporting any of this as evidence of fraternization."

Garrus blinked and perhaps his stance moved away from Chakwas a bit. He wasn't intimidated, but her words seemed to have hit home well enough. "Understood. I'm… I'm sorry I didn't say anything about it earlier. To be honest, I've had a lot of things on my mind, and our, ah, status isn't exactly official, even between the two of us."

Mordin perked up with his chance to speak. "Also have some matters to discuss on this. Medical reasons. Already spoke to Shepard about chafing. Will give her some lotions to help, advise you to use them to massage her. Very intimate."

"Uh…"

"Leading to my next point: are you okay with trimming talons? Human vaginal skin fragile, even to human nails."

"I've been meaning to get back into the habit of it."

"Good, good. More serious matter, next: humans have very high stamina compared to other races. Krogan one of few that can compare, due to redundancies to reduce organ failures. Defining characteristic in their evolution. Ancestors hunted by chasing fast game into exhaustion. Humans now test and show off stamina as past-time in typical events such as 'marathons', running over fourty-two kilometers in one race. With conditioning, human stamina is almost unmatched, and Shepard is exceptional even in that regard due to various cybernetic implants."

Garrus's jaw dropped. Karin almost burst out in laughter at the look on his face, so she had to speak up to keep it from happening, "Dr. Solus, I think you're overstretching this a little."

"Not at all. Stamina differences between races significant, especially with cultural weight in turian culture on duty. Risk of exhaustion and dehydration serious; one instance caused death."

"You're kidding me," Garrus cringed.

"Important subject! Would not dream of _mockery_," Mordin huffed as the turian shook his head in exacerbation. "No worries; just remember to pace yourself. Hydration is important. Any questions?"

Garrus almost growled. "As much as I do want to end this conversation as quickly as possible, I do have one. Shepard mentioned that…" His mandibles flexed apprehensively. "It's pretty personal, but she did compare… I mean, she could smell… _she mentioned I smelled like rain_," he blurted finally.

Humor aside, Chakwas blinked and tilted her head back. Off-hand, she couldn't remember anything about turian physiology that was particularly "rain-like", and she was scouring xeno-bio-chemical charts she'd memorized over the years in her head.

Mordin, on the other hand, lit up like an "aha" moment was presented to him by the admission, and Chakwas had to feel more than a little jealousy at his quick brain. "Ah, yes! Turian mating pheromones include small amounts of geosmin." He began pacing, chittering through the logic he'd so brilliantly come across for himself. "Evolutionary development: genitals kept in plating to shield from radiation on Palaven. Exposure must be limited, causing incentive for mating during times of low radiation, such as over-cast from rain. Geosmin well-known as a petrichor, or scent of rain on dry earth. Advantage for turians to illicit reminder of preferred mating times while wishing to mate."

"Oh right, geosmin," Chakwas couldn't help but smile at that. "I had no idea you turians exuded that chemical. Hmm, that's quite lucky; we humans rather enjoy that smell."

"So… humans _can_ smell it?" he confirmed.

"Oh, yes." She nodded. "We can detect it at very low concentrations. Something like five parts to a trillion. I don't know how that compares to turian noses off the top of my head…"

"Turian olfactory senses stronger in most cases, but geosmin sensing is not to the same extreme as humans," Mordin supplied helpfully, then tilted his head. "Taste might not be enjoyed, however. Humans use acidic ingredients to break down when present in food. Will speak with Shepard about this."

Chakwas had to give it to Garrus. A human man getting stuck in this conversation in the middle of two doctors would have fled with a beet-red face by now. She had almost forgiven him for his disregard in telling her important medical information in the first place. Not that the man wasn't embarrassed; even if she never saw a turian before, she could tell he was floundering between trying to keep a private matter private and trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing. He moved to the door of the clinic, which opened automatically with his proximity. "If that's all, I'll just leave…"

"Oh, another thing," Mordin chirped.

Garrus's shoulders and head dropped. Hehad almost made it, poor man.

"Suggest oils for you as well, if relationship with Shepard extends for a long period. Can provide if you ask. Highly recommended along with microfiber cloth for application."

"…Did you just prescribe lotion and a rag to jack off with later?"

Mordin nodded. "Yes."

"I think we're done here," he said, the proud turian totally broken down from any attempts at calmness and levity. When the doors closed behind him, Mordin only offered a slight shrug, while Karin, who had soldiered through the whole scene without letting go of any more than a British smirk, finally let loose a screeching cackle and a slap on her thigh.


	19. Snow White and Rose Red

Disclaimer: Chapter one. This chapter will start spicy and end heavy. Trigger warnings for the latter.

I pick on Garrus too much. I need to get away from that.

(He needs to stop being such an easy target.)

* * *

><p>As awful and stomach-knotting as Garrus's day had been (why did so many days that began so well end so badly for him?), he was relieved that Shepard called him up to her cabin at the end of it. He opted to wear civvies up rather than his full armor, which made him feel a little vulnerable, but was absolutely worth what he suspected he had in store. When he entered, she glanced up at him from a screen showing some sort of movie, smiled brilliantly, and opened her arms towards him as she rose to her knees on the couch. "C'mere. We've both had a long day, and I haven't seen you since your father walked in on us this morning."<p>

Garrus sunk into her embrace like he was stepping into warm water and enveloped her in his own arms. "I saw you once, in the medbay. You were unconscious at the time. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Tired. Pissed off. I still have a list of things on my agenda, but if I don't force myself down, now, I'll blow up on the next person I talk to as their commander. Do you know the errands I ended up running today in the Citadel? That's the worst goddamn part; I was running all over the place when I should be out after the Collectors."

"I heard a little about it. There was a military convention on the Citadel at the time. That's why Dad was there."

"Hmm, explains the crowds."

"We… could have gone. He'd invited us to come and speak about the Reaper threat if we had time, but by the time I came back to the Normandy, EDI said you were out again."

Shepard paused, humming in thought a moment. "Really? I mean, no, I didn't have time to go, but he invited us? He believed you?"

"I was more surprised than you were. I told him I'd at least keep up to date with him about our mission. He actually knows Primarch Fedorian personally, so there's hope for us, yet."

The smile returned and she tucked herself into his cowl. "Best news I've heard all day. You're fantastic, Garrus."

He couldn't help beaming at that and nuzzled into her temple. "You knew I always had a flare for turning complete disasters to our advantage."

"If you didn't, I couldn't keep you. All of our missions are disasters, remember?" She kissed his damaged mandible, prompting him to wrap an arm around her. "I heard Mordin and Chakwas caught you and gave you a sex talk, too. If it makes you feel any better, Mordin gave me another lecture when I woke up."

"I'm not sure how that makes me feel. At least I managed to avoid _that_ conversation with my father. So, you said you're free right now?"

"There are still some things on my plate. Finish some reports, do some scanning for the mining probes, talk to Melanis. But, I'm in no condition to any of it without breaking something."

"Really? What do you have to talk to Mel about?"

The look that passed by Shepard's face didn't miss Garrus's notice, but she shrugged and shook her head as if she was tired. "It's nothing you have to worry about." A grin scratched out onto her face. "So, how about we talk about something a little more _fun_."

"Why, Commander, didn't I just put you on a gurney from our last of such encounters?"

"Go ahead and be smug about it, Vakarian. All I was thinking about was sitting here and watching a few vids together. You know, a nice—" Her hand slid up behind him to dip into his cowl. "—slow—" Fingers slid over his plates and into his fringe. "—relaxing night." Her body was pressed into his in a way that was anything but relaxing. Nice, sure, but not relaxing.

"I… think I might be able to suggest some vids, then."

"Oh?" That grin curled up so much, he thought the corners would turn into a pair of coils.

Garrus actually had no idea what they could watch together, not actually having wandered much into anything turian/human past the initial glance-over. But, he did catch her watching plain turian porn that one time, so he pulled up one of those and settled in beside her. She chuckled and cast him a heated glance, but said nothing else as she leaned into his body, her fingers playfully sliding into his fringe.

He knew he wouldn't be able to take much more of that before things would escalate, and he felt like teasing her, so he pulled her into his lap with a growl. Her laugh chimed even as the new position took away her ability to stroke him, while a whole world of touching was opened to his fingertips. He softly purred into her ear while they watched, and his hands roamed over her form to fondle her and peel off her clothes.

Garrus had taken time to finally cut and file his talons down earlier, and he was glad. He'd forgotten how satisfying it was to crack open a woman with hands alone (Would "crack open" still apply to human women? Maybe it applies well enough to Shepard.) It didn't take long before she was arching against him in his lap with her cries drowning out the turian growls and moans on the screen. When she came, he was nibbling her neck and purring affectionate nothings into her ear.

Whimpers and panting followed, then she turned just enough to slide her tongue into his mouth. Eventually, she had enough strength to turn fully and straddle him, gloriously naked over his still clothed (but very much at attention) body. His fingers kept tracing and groping her exposed flesh, but he almost lost the rhythm when she ducked her head under his chin and bit hard into the flesh of his neck. He gripped hard into the flesh of her waist and groaned, and when she pushed aside the fly of his pants and slid him up into her, he broke into a whine.

Garrus threaded his fingers into her hair and kissed her again, hard, and hoped that his passion translated as well as hers did to him. Spirits, he loved how this woman could just _unmake_ him.

Shepard had set a new pace, and it was slow, sweet, but not without the bites, scratches, and iron grips from before. She worked herself against him in smooth, unhurried motions and he responded with massaging her muscles and sliding himself back up into her warmth. The build itself was dragging at first, but their desire pounced on them with such alarm towards the end that they didn't have time to speed up their motions, resulting in halting, disjointed slaps of flesh together before one came, then the other. Her whole body, inside and out, shivered around him, and he could scarcely do more than grip her against him, almost as if he feared she would fly apart.

Their gasps afterwards were hoarse. Garrus nuzzled into Shepard's temple, rumbling something resembling words, but he doubted her translator would catch it. He thought about saying something of substance then, perhaps how important she was to him or how far he fell for her, but he resolved to just make a little noise and softly lick the sweat from her brow.

"We should do this more often," she said eventually.

"Mmm," Garrus agreed.

"Why don't you just come up here whenever you want? I can shoot you down a message, but when we're in deep space and I've finished my rounds through here, there's as good a chance that I don't have anything better to do."

Garrus pulled his head back and looked at her carefully. She appeared serious, but he had to make sure. "You make it sound like I'm a distraction to pass the time," he joked, but in truth he was just bluffing with humor.

"A tall, dark distraction, wearing blue armor and rather eye-catching scars." Her smile was warm in a way that didn't suit her, and he loved it. "Wanna give my bed a try? Maybe this time we can wake up without any issue."

"Sure. Let me, ah, get a drink real quick and I'll meet you under the covers."

* * *

><p>In the wake of it, it occurred to Melanis that maybe she <em>wasn't<em> the luckiest one coming out of that last assault before they ran from Omega. That was her original conclusion; Garrus had gotten a missile to the face and came out with some crazy-looking scars, Mierin lost her lover and her only remaining family, and Butler came out without any physical wounds, but something deeper that caused his limbs to shake. Hell, she was one of the first ones Shepard took out on a mission.

But recent events put this into reevaluation. Garrus didn't seem to care about his scars—might've even liked them—and was currently very much in love with a dominate female who returned his affections. After Mierin finally finished crying, she became a font of positivity and life. Butler was doing some pretty good recovery and keeping his spirits high by conversing with Nalah, and he would soon ask Shepard if he could join the ground team as well. Meanwhile, Melanis…

That night had her metaphorically looking at herself in a mirror for the first time since she left Omega, and she was unnerved by what she saw. She was sick and disgusted with herself for more reasons than one, and it was nearly impossible to hide her anger, stress, and self-loathing while on a ship. She even stupidly blurted out something incriminating when the human therapist was trying to talk to her, and the only thing she could do was shut up and run away from the situation.

For now, she was trying again, against all futility, to hide from the inevitable conversation that her behavior and careless remark that would come to her. Who would it be that comes? Chambers? Shepard? _Garrus? _Spirits, she'd rather strip off her armor and dance naked during a firefight than have to explain herself to him.

What ended up happening was that she was given a message from the commander to meet her just before a drop, and it was heavily implied that it wasn't to be briefed on a mission. She shot back a note requesting they would speak in one of the cargo bays as to afford her some privacy. Not a minute passed before Shepard's reply came.

"_I'll be there."_

Melanis's mandibles fluttered in apprehension, and her wait until the meeting was similarly unnerving. She was so on edge by the time she came to the cargo bay, it felt like her plates didn't fit correctly. Luckily, she hardly had time to sit on one of the dented crates before Shepard came in to put her out of her misery.

Shepard made a glance-over. "By the looks of it, you seem to have a pretty good idea why I called for you. In that case, would you mind explaining to me just what you meant when speaking with the Yeoman?"

The turian did her best to not look like she would faulter at any moment and tried to put a strong face on when she repeated what she had told Chambers to Shepard. "Well, Commander... Is it possible for someone to deserve being raped?"

Shepard blew out a breath and sat down on a crate on the opposite of the bay from her. "I can't say I make any sort of moral authority here, especially when I don't know the context or the culture involved here. But it looks like I should be ordering you to do something, and I don't know if it's to report to a counselor or to the brig. I need you to help me out here in figuring out which one."

"But, that's where I keep going back. Whether it was justified... and if it was, was it enough?" She made a vague gesture. "How do humans consider it?"

Shepard's features furrowed in obvious distaste and thought on the question that, to her, must have seemed like time-wasting deflection. "I'm not sure I can give you a good answer. We stigmatized sex for so long and women weren't given the same rights as men, so it took a few generations fix the damage. We had to deconstruct the idea that sex and sexuality could be essentially violating, and we're still working through the final details of it. What would have been rapes a hundred years ago are now mostly considered assaults, acts of fraud, or just forgettable mistakes, and the needs for those charges have diminished with the change of culture. Depending on where you are; it still varies between countries and colonies."

"What's your personal view on it?" Melanis asked.

"It's obviously not a good thing," Shepard sounded almost insulted. "I've never had to consider it outside of defining its impact in a history and sensitivity class when I joined the Alliance. I ran into it when I was younger, but I just considered it another kind of assault."

Melanis shook her head. She wasn't getting anywhere like this. "Let me put it another way: Is it possible for someone to deserve to be killed?"

That question didn't mesh well. "Look, Melanis, if you're wasting my time for some philosophical bullshit—"

"Okay, okay! Let me start from the beginning!"

* * *

><p>The beginning was innocent enough. Mel had gone to eat on the Citadel and ran into a bar on the way back. She easily slid into a group of celebrating turians who were on their own shore leave and it didn't take long before she was getting too many drinks treated to her that she wouldn't push away. She drank and laughed and drunk dialed a few people on the comm, but she knew the worst that could happen is that she'd have an awful morning and end up being dragged into combat while nursing a hangover.<p>

Instead, what ended up happening was that Melanis didn't go join any of the turian men like she might have (to be completely honest) originally planned. Instead, when it was offered, she ended up declining and departing separately from the bar.

"It's too early to just go back to the ship," she said to no one particular as she walked, even though she didn't really know what time it was and didn't care to check her omni-tool. She hadn't really spent time on the Citadel before, so, she figured, why not just roam around for a little bit and look around? Maybe she'd even find another bar along the way with some friendly soldiers she could joke with.

She should know that this behavior is stupid and reckless; wandering around aimlessly, while drunk, and being a newcomer to these parts? But she was sure that the Citadel would be different. Even their rougher parts that Garrus described didn't sound nearly as bad as Omega.

Someone noticed though. "What are you doing here?"

Her sense was so muddled she couldn't place him; maybe it was one of the guys from that group she was partying with, since something did seem familiar about him. She stared at him blearily, not able to make out his face very well with the light and the haze over her brain, or what was up with his voice that it seemed like something important just happened. He stared back at her for a long time, standing very still, then asked a question that she didn't quite understand, so she shrugged. Then he was talking quickly, and his arms were around her and gently leading her away from, he explained, the lower wards area where she would almost certainly get herself mugged.

"Look, I—where are you staying? You don't have to be specific; I just want to make sure you're somewhere safe and make sure you aren't running around so drunk you can't recognize anything three feet in front of you."

"I don't want to go back to the ship, yet," Melanis hissed. No, absolutely not. She needs to be outside; her legs have been itching to run since she came on the ship, and Shepard didn't take her out on missions nearly enough.

"If it's a ship, I can just take you to the docks. Just give me a general direction and I can drop you off there."

"I said, _I don't want to go back yet._"

The man huffed and ran his claws over his fringe. "Then could I bring you to a public area and wait until you call someone from there to pick you up?"

"_No._" She went to walk away in a direction from him, but he got a light hold on her again and got himself to her side.

"Look, I can… maybe I can get you a hotel room for the night? I mean, your _own_ hotel room. I don't even need to know which room you're in. That way you'll not be out and exposed."

"Where do _you_ get off calling me weak?"

"…Spirits, you were always an awful drunk." He pulled up his omni-tool and started putting in an order right in front of her. "I'll just go ahead and reserve the room for you. Then, I'll bring you there, and you can give your name to the person at front for the keycode."

Melanis made another peevish comment about how hard he was trying to get her in bed, but he ignored her and proceeded to herd her over to the hotel, and by the time they reached it, the alcohol-induced blanket over her head had faded enough for her to appreciate the luxury of the place she was shuttled into, and who the man was she was with had, gradually but surely, been dawning on her. She purposefully didn't get the keycode herself, forcing her self-appointed chaperone to get it for her and continue to force her up the elevator and into the room.

He rattled on what she needed to know while he transferred her the keycode and deleted his copy, ensuring that there will be no issue and that the night in the room was on him. He moved to get away—because at this point, it was pretty clear to her that he didn't want to stay any more than absolutely necessary—but she stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"Sidonis," she hissed. Her voice was all drunken rage.

The male turian deflated under her gaze to the point his body weight even pulled a little in her grasp. "You're too drunk to do anything here, Melanis. Just let leave with the knowledge that _somebody_ is safe and sound."

She spat at that. "You should have thought of that before you betrayed us."

"They were going to kill me if I didn't!"

"_Seven_ of us are dead because you did. If it weren't for… shit, we could've all died if it weren't for dumb luck."

Lantar recoiled at that and turned to leave before she could see his face, though it's not like it mattered. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back towards her. "Don't you run away again!" He tried to pull away, but she threw him strong into the room and threw a swipe at him.

Sidonis defended himself better than a drunk Melanis could attack, so she took to using the stupidly fancy room he tried to dump her into as her weapon, smashing chairs, tables, lamps, statuettes, and whatever else she could get her claws on and lift on or near him as he skittered away. It became a wrestling match, and even with Sidonis's comparitively peaceful words, he was just as serious and roudy within the fight. Their claws caught each other in a grapple and they tumbled to the ground, but the more lithe female managed to get herself on top.

A tumble was so often foreplay within turian culture that the different air that suddenly formed when everything went still would not have been considered strange in different circumstances. She was aware of the male's excited scent, his racing heartbeat, and oh-so-slight gap that had formed in his plates just beneath where she straddled him. Unabashed desire for something that was out of her reach pulled at her and she found herself tearing off her own clothes and omnitool to toss away among the rest of the ruined room, and Sidonis's wasn't far behind. His eyes were wide, and he did protest—she was quite aware of the protests and the struggle—but she fucking growled at him with the most hate she can shove into his face.

"Try anything and I'll tear your throat out right now." And he was cowed.

* * *

><p>Shepard was good at keeping her face blank as she heard whatever was being said to her, and it had an effect of letting you know that anything about her reaction was going to be wholly deliberate. It was a quality she had grown to notice among commanders. When the whole story was out in the open for review, the face stayed a little longer before it returned to something not quite exacerbated. Tired, maybe. Vexed?<p>

What she said next was unexpected, however. "What sort of punishment do you believe you deserve?"

Melanis's mandibles waved warily. "I don't... You would have me choose it for myself?"

"Your team's problem with Sidonis is something I'm an interloper with. I don't know if Alliance protocol would apply to this situation, I don't know protocol in the Hierarchy, and I don't care how Cerberus would respond. But you obviously feel guilty about it, so I assume you can think of something appropriate."

"I..." Her voice was arrested in a choke.

"You have eighteen hours to contact me with your decision, and you're grounded from missions until further notice. I won't tell anyone what you told me, and EDI will erase any evidence of this conversation."

The blue avatar appeared. Shepard didn't even turn towards it, her eyes squarely the subordinate before her. "Commander, I do not have access to such command on those securities."

"Then flag them or something to keep them away from a database search. I don't care how you do it, this conversation was private and I want it kept that way."

"Understood. Logging you out." It blinked away.

Shepard gave an appraising look in the holograms wake, but they swept back to Melanis like a magnet. "You have your orders. Dismissed, soldier."

Mel managed the tiniest of nods before she slunk away.


	20. The Storm Shakes the Shields

**Disclaimer**: Chapter one.

I am so sorry, guys. I've been stupid busy for the past couple months, working on various projects (some of which require hours of driving and lots of money), and on top of that I've been formulating a couple new multichapter Shakarians (and maybe a one shot) in my head, but I promise I won't abandon this one in the meantime. I only have time now because a surgery has me laid out.

As always, thank you all so much for the support and your patience.

* * *

><p>The mission Shepard had to proceed to was Horizon, and it was awful.<p>

There was a lot of bad with all the potential for good in the mission. She brought Mordin to observe his securities against the Collecter wasps first hand, which seemed like a good idea at the time. She brought Garrus, because fuck frequent squad rotation (she had tried so hard to keep that in the first _Normandy_, but she found out quickly that Garrus and Wrex were useful to have around, while every mission she did with Liara in tow was wrought with frustration, so guess who went with her to Ilos?). The wasps worked fantastically, they were quick enough to at least save some of the colonists.

Some.

Shepard wasn't new to losses or Phyric victories. Failing to save the entire colony wouldn't have bothered her so much if she didn't meet Kaiden there. Kaiden, who pointed out to her that Cerberus might have as much to do with this attack as the Collectors themselves. Kaiden, who rightfully judged her for her involvement with Cerberus, something which she couldn't say a damn thing because, if roles were reversed, she'd consider Kaiden a traitor to the Alliance, and the idea of her being a traitor made her feel ill at ease where it stood. She wasn't going to beg with him, but she wasn't going to yell at him.

Garrus, on the other hand, had different plans.

Maybe she should have thought it was sweet that he felt the need to protect her from Kaiden. Maybe she shouldn't have been annoyed by his little flirtatious looks as they ran through the colony. Maybe she shouldn't have cringed when the over-observant salarian scientist carefully watched them as she ignored Garrus's advances.

Instead, she shouted him down, and all at once regretted it for how hurt he looked, as well as Mordin's large inquisitive eyes.

The drive back to the _Normandy_ drowned in heavy silence.

* * *

><p>As soon as she returned to the ship, she wernt straight to her quarters, ignoring every other person on the ship and the cheery reminders from Chambers about messages on her terminal. That could all wait. The fucking Illusive Man could wait. She had some research to do.<p>

She ripped off her armor before throwing it into a corner and sat down at her personal terminal. After a long stare, she started tying her search query:

"_cross species rape culture"_

Was that the right question she wanted to ask? She only vaguely recalled the term "rape culture" from history classes, a term from early 21st century that talked about the prevalence of rape due to the culture of the time. Humans liked to think they were past this but, perhaps, there was more happening when you added different races with different ideas of consent.

And she had to admit, after Melanis's admission, it made Shepard herself think twice about how her relationship started with Garrus. He wasn't exactly willing when she first threw herself at him, and turians did put a lot of importance on their power structure. And his flirting with her now didn't make the possibility that she might have taken advantage of him any harder to swallow.

She clicked on a few links and tried her damnedest to understand the text that came up. When EDI came up, Shepard nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Commander, I do not wish to impugn your intentions or violate your privacy—"

"Jesus Christ, EDI." She shut down the browser immediately and turned to glare at the blue orb. "What is it?"

"Dr. Solus wishes to discuss your behavior on Horizon, and due to his concerns and the nature of your Extranet search, I do not know what the best course of action would be."

Shepard could only sigh and wave a hand. "Patch him through."

A moment later, Mordin's voice rang through her cabin. "Shepard, I am concerned about behavior. Mission largely success. Preventative measures against Collector wasps test positive. But disturbance between you and Vakarian... unusual."

"I was just in a bad mood," she ground out. "And seeing Kaiden didn't make it any better."

"I see. Vakarian central to 'bad mood'?"

She frowned. Would it be a lie if she said it wasn't? "A crew member told me something a little disturbing before we deployed and it distracted me on the mission. I'm currently researching the matter to determine, ah, disciplinary measures." That last bit wasn't exactly true, since she told Melanis to think up her own punishment, but some context wouldn't hurt, either.

"Would like to help. Private matter?"

"Yes, but if you have any materials..." That's right; some of the pamphlets Mordin sent her talked about culture differences, and this was something in the same vain. "... I need to know about sexual assault. Err, across different races. Common problems, culture surrounding, cross species miscommunications, reception and punishment in different power structures... That sort of thing."

Mordin made a hum that, oddly, sounded like a smile. "I see. Humans among most sensitive of issue due to recent history; makes sense you would ask questions. I will send some information immediately. Overview: Most reported sexual violence involve Batarians, though numbers are likely skewed by slavery. Among Citadel races..."

Shepard cringed, not wanting to hear something especially damning.

"...would be asari."

"Wait, what?" Shepard blurted.

"Asari have difficult understanding of consent and low consideration of alien sexual culture due to racial exceptionalism. High amount of various sexual misconduct instigated by asari, both across and within species. Politicians often plagued with scandals."

"Oh. Uh, so how to humans and turians compare to those numbers?"

"Humans have most variation in numbers, but tend highest consideration of consent. Turians have low reporting percentages, but high conviction rates. Pamphlets will explain in more detail."

"Thank you, Mordin."

"Anytime, Shepard. This conversation will be confidential." And that was the end of it. Shepard sighed and rubbed her temples.

:"Commander," EDI almost seemed to be speaking carefully. "If I may ask, would this research have to do with your earlier discussion with Melanis, or your relationship with Mr. Vakarian?"

"EDI, my 'discussion' with Melanis is supposed to be private."

"Understood. I am merely trying to have a better context of the situation. I had once asked Mr. Vakarian if your advances were inappropriate due to his reluctance at one instance."

Shepard shot up on her feet at that. "You what?"

"He indicated it was consensual, so I didn't file any reports."

Dread flowed over Shepard and turned her stomach, She sat down again like a lightning-bolt striking the chair and pulled up the information Mordin had sent, looking for those "low reporting percentages".

"He is currently requesting entrance into your cabin. There is also an outside signal requesting a vidchat with you."

She ran a hand through her hair and found that a cold sweat had broke out across her forehead.

" I can patch the signal through and turn Mr. Vakarian away, if you wish."

She ran a hand through her hair and found that a cold sweat had broke out across her forehead. "Please. Tell him I'll come see him later, when I'm doing rounds."

"Understood," the orb blinked away just as an older turian face popped up on her screen.

"Commander Shepard," he started, "I hope I didn't catch my son's mate at a bad time."

* * *

><p>"The commander is busy with a vidcall at the moment and requests privacy," EDI's cool voice washed down on Garrus,<p>

"What?" All throughout the disaster that was Horizon, Garrus couldn't shake the feeling that he did something wrong. "But... just last night she gave me permission to come in whenever I wanted."

"This is a unique situation. She said she would come visit you later in the Forward Battery."

He made a curt nod as something cold gnawed on his guts. Shepard was particularly cold to him earlier, and then there was Kaiden. The human biotic all but yelled at Shepard and branded her a traitor, and when Garrus tried to defend her... she turned on him. There were rumors swirling around Shepard, Alenko, and Liara on the first Normandy, but he had no idea if they were true. With how betrayed Kaiden looked and how complacent Shepard was with his anger, maybe... it was true?

Maybe Shepard had a thing for Kaiden? Maybe she _still_ has a thing for Kaiden?

"Yeah, okay," Garrus felt himself walking back towards the elevator, despondent even as he told himself not to be. Even if Kaiden and Shepard had something... that didn't apply now, did it? Not when Kaiden throws her away and spits in her face, right? Surely, she has more self-respect than to want the company of a man that looks at her like she's a monster. He pressed the button to go back down to the Crew Deck and the doors swished closed and hummed its slow descent..

Maybe that's Kaiden talking to her right now, trying to apologize and rekindle things between them. "EDI, may I ask who Shepard is conversing with?"

"She is speaking with Jurian Vakarian on a line from the Citadel."

Garrus's hand shot out and slammed on the stop button of the elevator and rekeyed the top floor. "She's talking to my father? Why the hell didn't you just say so?"

"The information didn't seem pertinent as she had previously requested privacy—"

"Privacy is the last thing she's going to get when she talks to my father." When the door opened to the small hall towards the cabin again, he marched through it. "Let me through, EDI."

"I cannot allow you to come through."

Garrus cursed and pulled up his omni-tool. One way or another, he was getting in there. He wasn't about to let his father scare her away or whatever embarrassing plot it was that he had envisioned. If it was about Reaper business, he could very well have called him, not the commander. When the remaining doors hissed opened Shepard looked up at him from her seat in utter shock as he barged through, he settled to stand behind her and glare at his father through the screen. "Dad, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Garrus! I was just having a discussion here with the commander." He made a vague gesture that just spiked Garrus's sudden anger even more. "But it's just as well that you've shown up. There is something about your, ah, last visit that I really should discuss with the both of you."

The older turian picked up a bottle of industrial strength cleaning fluid for them to see through the channel. "I had to use some really strong stuff over here. I understand the bed, though I had to just go ahead and immolate the sheets and buy new ones, but my _desk_? _Really_, Commander?"

Garrus's jaw dropped. "What?"

Shepard's face was unusually red and she scowled. "I didn't know there'd be an issue."

"I'm sorry, Dad. The desk was... kinda my idea."

His father huffed on the screen and put away the bottle. "It's that sort of behavior that makes me wonder if you really aren't going to let this get in the way of the mission."

"This has nothing to do with..." Garrus waved his hand in exasperation. "Are you honestly going to sit there and judge me for something so stupid? Like you've never gone a little outside of the box for Mom?"

His father reared back a little with a blink, then grinned down at the desk he sat in. "Might be a point there. If it weren't for the desk, I doubt you'd have a little sister today."

"Great spirits, that's not what I meant!" Garrus screeched as he stood up and away from the terminal, horrified. Shepard ducked her head into one of her arms to look away from the both of them. Her shoulders were shaking, and Garrus had a feeling that it wasn't out of embarrassment or anger.

"I'm just saying you tend to get carried away by your passions a little, Garrus. I saw that look on your face when the commander here accidentally quoted _'Stand Beneath Tempests' _at you. If I weren't there, you might've done something _insane_... like ask her to marry you on the spot."

"I wouldn't have... we haven't even..." Garrus threw up his hands and turned his back on his father's image, fuming.

His father didn't seem particularly offended. "And Commander?"

Shepard's head slowly rose from where he was hiding her face, which was as red as her N7 stripe with laughter."Yes?"

"I don't know how serious you are about my son, so I expect you to get ready to explain yourself and what you expect from him by the next time we meet. Formal matter."

"Oh. Uh..." She glanced over at Garrus, seeing him still quite agitated. "I... yes?"

"I suggest you discuss the matter with my son. He'll know more about the Parental Meeting than an Extranet search will explain. As for official matters, I spoke with Fedorian."

Garrus turned towards the screen again. "You spoke with the Primarch?"

"He isn't exactly as... open to the possibility as I hoped, but he seemed open to allocating some resources if necessary. Any information you can send me would be of great help, but for now, we should be able to get something of a small task force. Nothing that can do anything at the moment, mind you."

"That's... actually pretty great," Shepard said as she righted herself to a respectable position in the chair. "Who will be in charge of it?"

"For now, I am, which is part of the reason it's so small," the man all but grumbled, "I've been retired from duty for a while, and most of my career has been in C-Sec, not the military. There's some talk of it reporting to General Adrien Victus on the homeworld, but nothing definite, and even if it does report to him, it won't amount to any increase of resources until there's a more proper command structure provided."

"That's still fantastic news," Garrus said, leaning down once again in front of the screen. "Though it might be too little, too late if we let it stay that way. Ah, no offense, Dad."

"None taken. I'm too old to fight new wars, anyway."

Shortly after that, he bid his farewell with a reminder he will be contacting them again soon before the screen switched to black.

Garrus chanced looking again at Shepard, who had this open look on her face.

"You know, your father doesn't seem to hate me quite as much as you said he was going to."

His mandibles flared and fluttered. "I have no idea what's going on through his head right now. Maybe Mom's condition is making him reevaluate everything."

A brow dropped. "Is there something wrong with your mother?"

"Nothing you have to worry about." He huffed a little bit and approached her, slowly settling an arm around her shoulders. It didn't look as natural there as it did before, so he lightly bumped his forehead to her temple in an apologetic motion. "I shouldn't have just barged in the way I did, though."

"It's no big deal." Her voice was still a bit distant, though, and he was about to apologize again when a grin split her face and her hands shot out to her terminal, again.

"What was that title he mentioned? '_Stand Beneath Tempests'_?" Her eyes were full of mischief, and before he could stop her, she'd already erased whatever it was she was researching before and typing in the poem's name.

"Wait, Shepard," he tried to pull the little laptop away from her fingers, but she snatched it away and picked it up with her as she walked further into the room, apparently looking at the search results.

"Hmm, an old turian love poem, let's see..."

"_Shepard_..." He made to grab at it again, but she dodged his long arms.

She read it aloud:

"_Although your body is aflame in heat_

_And mine own washes over me like bathwater_

_Your voice and scent,_

_Like an oncoming thunderstorm,_

_Chills me through my plates with its power."_

"Shepard," Garrus tried again, but she danced out of his reach again.

"_Like a heavy rain your hands caress me,_

_Like a lightning bolt are each and every thrust,_

_And as the approaching storm comes,_

_I am shifted open and already providing the first drizzle._

_Our plates are soaked with rainwater,_

_Outside, throughout, within._

_And as we come, I stand beneath the tempest,_

_Of our combined desire."_

He called for her again, but his voice was a pant, and her fluid muscles lead him away too quickly to catch.

"_And when we are apart, know you,_

_That when I hear and scent the approach,_

_Of a thunderstorm,_

_I will stand awaiting their coming,_

_I stand beneath tempests,_

_With the thought of you,_

_So I am opened and soaked,_

_Outside, throughout, within."_

She dropped the computer away from her and stared at him, eyes wide and lips enticingly plump all of the sudden.

"...Wow. I didn't realize... Goddamn, Garrus."

She had stopped long enough this time, and he took hold of her immediately. There was an unsure look in her eyes he didn't like, but the way her warm body felt in his arms... "How do you do it?" he wondered aloud.

"Do what?"

"Turn me on so bad with so little," he purred. The words as spoken by her voice had already shifted his plates and set his body on fire. "I'm going to get so behind on my calibrations because of you."

There was a small look of relief in her eyes that he found himself thankful for before he pressed his lips into hers.


	21. Cinderella

Disclaimer: It's in chapter one.

Everybody, thank DannyBates again. It's not that I forget to write, but guhdamn I have been busy, busy, busy.

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><p>Despite Garrus's best efforts, he wasn't quite able to pull himself away from Shepard immediately after their most recent round, even though they both had enough work to do.<p>

It wasn't really his fault, though; it turns out human women were the most comfortable bed warmers he'd ever had the pleasure of sharing covers with. Couple that with her distant, even surly attitude earlier, and he was far too grateful for the break in the bad mood to take what she had to offer for granted. He absentmindedly licked behind the shell of one ear, enjoying the afterglow, as she looked over that poem again from a small, personal display on her omni-tool.

"Maybe I should memorize this piece of literature. There has to be a tactical use for a hard turian dick on command."

He huffed a laugh a little bit into the skin of her neck. "What does it say about my race if I tell you that all turian males fantasize about having his mate someday recite that old thing to them?"

"It makes you sound like a bunch of sappy romantics. Is all turian love poetry like this?"

"Most of them usually talk more about the two moons above Palaven. Sort of, ah, a metaphor for the couple, I guess. Those kind of themes are all over our folklore, too. Satellites falling or colliding like they're romantic, stuff like that."

"Folklore, huh? Makes me want to hear what kind of fairy tales turians made up." She smiled at him. "Now, what was that 'parental meeting' your father was talking about? I don't think you want me to be looking that up on the Extranet as well."

Garrus gave a somewhat surly hum at being reminded about that. He wanted this time to last as long as possible. "There are a lot of stupid stages in traditional turian courtship. I was honestly not even thinking about that since almost no one this day and age does that sort of thing, but I guess I should have known father better than that."

"So, what, this is the old 'meet their family' part? Humans have that, too."

Garrus shook his head. "It's more complicated than that. The Parental Meeting is an ancient practice. The dominant culture on Palaven at the time was forming an alternative to arranged marriages. After the couple has a meeting with the parents, the relationship gains a legal status between 'dating' and 'engaged'."

"Going steady."

"Exactly. The couple or the parents of either could call the meeting to decide if the two families can get along, and if the meeting, well, _fails_, then they have to meet again to draw up a legal contract if the relationship continues."

Shepard frowned. "Contracts?"

"They're… like prenuptials, I guess, but they only serve the purpose of annoying everyone if only two people involved don't like each other. They were deemed necessary once, but have been pretty much superfluous legal code for a few hundred years now. Most people skip it unless they have an ax to grind."

"I don't get it. The whole point of prenups is to keep one spouse from getting the money of the other after a divorce. What sort of contracts could come from that arrangement?"

"_Annoying_ ones. In C-Sec, I saw the result of one from a Meeting that went so south that the contract was designed to be essentially a restraining order between the couple. Naturally, the kids ignored it, and the whole lot of them ended up getting dragged into the Academy over the dispute. The law is old, but it's still in the Hierarchy even if it isn't Citadel law, so we had to shut up all six of them into holding cells to keep them from attacking each other while Palaven legal aides were called in. The paperwork on that one took _hours_."

"Six?"

"The couple and each of their parents."

Shepard leaned back onto the low headboard. "Would I be expected to bring someone with me to represent my parents?"

"I believe there are allowances in the system for if the parents are indisposed or dead." He looked down at the sheet over his legs and fluttered his mandibles. "But, this is pretty presumptuous of him, isn't it? We haven't even… I mean, we aren't…" He sighed. "If you don't mind me saying, letting someone force you into something that is basically a political maneuver is very uncharacteristic of you. We don't have to do it at all if you don't want to."

She guessed at what he was trying to say and pulled his head to face her and kissed him again. "I think we can agree we're a little more serious than fuck-buddies right now. And your father seems to like me a lot more than you seemed to think he would, so I think we'll be alright."

_You don't know my father. He wouldn't have called for one if it was going to be easy._ But instead of voicing his concerns, he huffed and kissed her again. "So… does that mean I get to call you my 'girlfriend', now?" His carapace felt unnaturally light all of the sudden as he said that.

"You'd better, because if I don't start calling you 'boyfriend', I'll have to think up a new officer title to illustrate the clearance into my bedroom and additional responsibilities associated."

"Why, Commander. I have to say, being under your command has to be the most... _fulfilling_ assignment I've ever had."

* * *

><p>Jack might not be good at interacting with people necessarily, but she felt pretty confident that she knew how to read them. Shepard didn't seem to enjoy spending a lick of time on Illium, so much so that she ordered Garrus and her to talk to Liara T'Soni in her place while she worked on getting supplies and more on her extended To-Do list.<p>

Shepard's fuck didn't seem to like that. "You're sure? Liara is probably pretty excited to see you, you know. She was… _rather_ famously fond of you, if memory serves."

There was a look on the commander's face the turian probably missed that told Jack there had to be a fun story behind that. "Liara" was the last person Shepard wanted to see to right now, and it looked like she didn't give a damn about the other party's feelings on that regard.

"We don't exactly have a bunch of time for us to waste slumming around Illium, you know. We've got people to gather, Collectors to follow—"

"Right, right." Garrus nodded. "Sorry, Commander. I'll go ahead and talk to Liara while you shop."

The look she shot him before marching to her next appointment wasn't exactly poisonous, but "exasperated" would describe it pretty well. Jack scoffed a little and crossed her arms.

"What'd this 'Liara' do, huh? Flush the commander's armor-cleaning solution down a drain?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. She didn't seem to like Liara two years ago, either, but there were rumors all over the ship that, ah…" Garrus shook his head. "Nevermind. No reason to resurrect old gossip."

"She and Shepard were fucking, I take?"

"_No_. I mean, I don't know. Nobody knew. _And this isn't important_." He pulled up his omni-tool to look at a map. "Let's go ahead and see her instead of standing around and chatting about it, okay?"

"Come on, Shepard's attached to your dick, now, right? If 'Liara' was an old lover, shouldn't I know to be prepared in case she's the jealous type?" At this point, Jack didn't even really care—who really gives a shit about who fucked who, anyway?—but it was obviously bothering Garrus, so she couldn't help the prodding.

His answer was to start moving in the direction they needed to go. "Jack, even if I was inclined to tell you, I don't have anything I could say. They were just rumors, and they were complicated by the people involved. I did my part by staying as far out of it as I could."

She smiled, even as she matched the wider turian stride. "So, you weren't chasing after her back then?"

"I wasn't."

"Ever regret that?"

That one hit a nerve. He almost stopped his march from the shock, but instead it only fumbled as if he was trying to physically avoid the implications of it in his path before he set on his pace again. Either he didn't expect such a question, or he never thought of it before, but he didn't answer, so she let it go.

When they came to the asari's office, they found Liara in the middle of a business disagreement, and she came off as the sort of cold badass a lot of asari aspired to be at first. For a moment, Jack could imagine Shepard going for a chick like that.

The illusion was broken when she heard them come in. "Shepard!" she whirled around like a princess meeting her Prince Charming, only to have her joy immediately (and, as far as Jack was concerned, comically) smashed. She made a big, awkward struggle of retraining her face to still show some happiness in seeing someone from the previous _Normandy_, now all the demure fragility of a young girl who had no real experience with the world. It make Jack laugh a little. "Ah, Garrus. I had been told of your arrival. It is good to see you."

"I'm sorry, Shepard couldn't make it; she's been on a tight schedule whenever we hit ground."

"I understand," she said, and she was all disappointment and clear emotional frailty, but she tried her best to keep friendly appearances with the turian. Jack kept a mocking smirk to herself and didn't say a thing as she looked over the office, thinking over what sort of situation the _SSV_ had between the asari and the commander. It had to have been rich, whatever it was. Jack'll have to rig up a meeting and be there just to see what would happen.

They made their discussion and departed with new information. Garrus and the asari seemed genuinely happy to see each other, but Jack went ahead and spoke her mind when they left. "Well, that was awkward for you, wasn't it?"

Garrus sighed. "Despite that, it was good to see her. I'd think most people'd understand seeing a friend, but I don't suppose you have as much experience in that."

"Ooo, nice one," she laughed. "Well, I don't like her that much, if that takes the pressure off of you. I bet she's worse than Mierin whenever she's in a funk. And just as sloppy."

Garrus looked at her levelly, then a brow rose in amusement. "Are you talking fighting or sex?"

"Hey, I didn't screw _your_ little asari. I just beat the shit out of her."

"Right."

"I'll tell you what: I'll even take video if I do fuck her, that way you can know all about it instead of trying to say shit you don't know about."

"Please don't. Your tattoos make me dizzy enough. Watching you through a viewscreen sounds nauseating."

* * *

><p>When Garrus tried to bring Liara up with Shepard later, she seemed several modes of unamused by the line of questioning.<p>

Nevermind that when he found her, she was talking to an asari bartender about spirits knows what. Sure, she had done a list of tasks at the same time, but her wish to get things done and continue with the main mission, though not an unusal drive for her, seemed... exaggerated. As much as she only cared about her main mission, she had before at least persued questioning on her own to get as much detail as possible to the situation first-hand.

If someone happened to have lit a fire under her ass, he'd like to know about it, and not only because he preferred her ass without charr. Maybe the Illusive Man gave her a time restriction?

He didn't have much chance to bring it up; after Thane was obtained, he was switched out so she can test his skill while she went to pick up the Justicar. He ended up in the Main Battery, mulling over how he should approach her later while he cleared out junk code and restested the guns against different sets of data. It didn't take him long to get carried away with the numbers and before he knew it, Shepard had been on the ship hours before he pulled himself away from his console.

She was already burrowed under her sheets when he came to her cabin, but she stirred and blinked at him sleepily when he came in. He sat down beside her and smoothed the hair out of her eyes.

"Coming back in and not even telling your boyfriend?" he teased.

She smiled a soft, sleepy smile that absolutely didn't belong on her cold, chisled features and she caught his hand to kiss the palm. "I was pretty beat. Forgive me?"

"Of course." He slid in beside her and placed a light peck of a lick on her cheek. Her lips curled in a little grin and she huffed. "You know, Liara missed you when we came in."

She hummed, but didn't offer an explanation, so he combed his fingers into her hair and made her face him. "Is something wrong? You've seemed very pressed lately. And... I don't want to say _moody_, but..."

"I just have a lot on my mind," she murmured, then wrapped herself around him. He wanted to argue further, but when her head was tucked into his collar like that, it always made him feel like he should lay back and relax if only to let her rest with him.

He dozed like that for maybe twenty minutes before a slight vibration from his omni-tool jarred him awake. Shepard shifted in his arms away from the wrist, but otherwise seemed unaffected. He slowly, with great care to keep the blaring orange light of the interface from waking her, brought up the message that had woken him.

It was a contact from C-Sec that he was cashing favors on. He had found Sidonis.


	22. The Steadfast Tin Soldier

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

Oh god, how long has it been? Okay, from now on, I should have more time to write. So you should see more coming from me.

Also, I want to make a note that this Shepard is going to be making a decision that she would otherwise have made differently had this story not been slightly AU. It will be pretty clear what the decision was towards the end of the chapter.

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><p>Assassins and justicars were easy enough to pick up. Or difficult and annoying as hell, but Shepard didn't get where she was (as a zombie Spectre resurrected by a terrorist organization) by not taking challenges as they came. Shortly afterwards, it was off to do the Illusive Man's bidding at a goddamn Collector ship. The Afterlife for Shepard, it seems, was a lot more exciting than she had expected it to be.<p>

She sensed that there was something on Garrus's mind from how he was acting. As she looked over the mission specs, she huffed at the thought about what it could be. Likely Liara said something to him, or maybe it had to do with Kaiden. Or the new relationship. Maybe all three? Shepard scowled at the thought of an unnecessary and uncomfortable conversation about things she didn't have time for.

Maybe that was unfair. And she knew Garrus was perfectly capable of being professional during a mission, but opted to disclude him from a few anyway. This last one brought in a friendly geth, and by this point she had admitted to herself she was putting off Garrus's conversation, because she knew that whatever he already had was going to be topped off with "I told you so"s and "Are you sure that's not insane?"s.

The new geth on the ship was, in fact, a pleasant (in Shepard's world) diversion from that complication. As strange as it was looking at one without a weapon between them, it was fascinating, and she absolutely wanted to know more. Especially about that piece of N7 armor. A part of her still felt painfully estranged from the Alliance and all she achieved during her time up until two years ago. Maybe Legion meant it to serve as a white flag for her, to make it easier to join? Then again, it had difficulty grasping the concept of a handshake, so that might be unlikely.

As a result, she was walking out of the AI Core Room in a rare, pleasant mood before she spotted Melanis, who in turn saw her and slunk away like a priest who had to kill a man with his bare hands. The moment hit Shepard like a sack of bricks flung at her head, and her disposition immediately soured again. Worst was, she couldn't go to Garrus to fuck the cares out of her skull; even if she wasn't avoiding him, he was in a sense _involved_ in the whole stupid affair.

So, bugging Miranda it was. "What's the next agenda?"

Her XO looked up from her paperwork with half a smirk. "Well, hello to you, too, Commander. And people call me cold."

"Look, you knew already I wasn't one for pleasantries, and I'm not in the mood to discuss Cerberus's good points after the shit the Illusive Man has been pulling lately. I'm going up to plot course and get some more work done, and before I go up and have to go through the Psych-Grad-That-Wasn't to get to my terminal, I thought you could give me a proper run-down of the next few errands we're going to be sent on."

"I might make a comment in turn about petty snipes, but to be honest, I like the drive to details." Miranda swiveled around and slid out of her chair to standing. "It's an admirable quality, really. We're working at a much better efficiency that even I had really anticipated, if only due to your drive and dedication. I can't deny that maybe the Illusive Man was right to put so much into you when I see these results."

"You mean the cybernetics, or the money?"

"That and more. I had planned planting a control chip in you while rebuilding you. The Illusive Man didn't allow it, and I'm still not sure if I completely trust his judgment, but even though we could have gotten to you faster on Omega, who's to say if that would have helped in the long run?"

Shepard scowled, and her nose crinkled. "Well, that's one point in his favor in my book, at least. Coming back as a zombie slave isn't exactly my ideal afterlife."

"Right..." She trailed off uncharacteristically and picked at her suit, looking over at her darkened terminal. "...Anyway, I don't have a clear report for you at the moment, but... I would like to give you some more mission requests later. There might be a lot to cover that isn't just passed down to the Lazarus Cell."

_O...kay. _Shepard didn't voice her confusion at the sudden change in demeanor. "Right. I'll come back later, then."

"Of course."

Shepard exited that room in a march towards the elevator. The whole ship was just humming with so much pre-mission jitters they were vibrating the bulkheads. Nevermind all the personal bullshit that seems to have tied everyone down.

Herself included, she had to admit when the doors opened and revealed Garrus, just as agitated as everyone else. "Shepard! Finally; I've been looking all over the place. I didn't even see you leave your bed in the morning."

_Goddamnit_. "What do you need, Garrus?"

"Will we be going to the Citadel soon?"

"I'd have to see the itinerary." She couldn't think of anything pressing off the top of her head that she would need to do while she was there, and she didn't intend to go unless there was something important. "Why? Do you need to pick something up while you're there?"

"I found him." His mandibles clattered in a sort of agitated excitement. "I found Sidonis."

_GODDAMNIT_. "Your sources came through?"

"That's right. There's a specialist on the Citadel, goes by the name Fade, who helps disappear people into the crowds there. He was seen with Sidonis."

_There's someone else Sidonis was seen with, _Shepard thought acerbically. She could say any number of things; she could say that they can't go to the Citadel right now, that they don't have time. She could try to order him to get over it; he might resent it, but he'd do it.

Then, there was the fact that the idea of someone—anyone—hurting Garrus pissed her off more than anything has a right to. She personally wanted Sidonis to pay. His run-in with Melanis aside, she wanted to do something to this person who wounded Garrus in a way that she couldn't reach to fix.

"I'll set course for the Citadel immediately," she said, because that's truly what she wanted to say, as unprepared for it as she felt.

"Thanks, Shepard. I appreciate you taking the time." His posture eased, and he gathered her hands in his. Maybe he wanted to embrace or kiss her, but he held back. "And, can I expect your help once we get there? I'm sure I'll need more than luck."

"Of course, Garrus. Whatever you need." That was the truth.

He gave a grateful, tentative smile and squeezed her hands once more before letting her go and going to his own post. She entered the elevator and nearly slammed her head against the back of the elevator as she looked up at nothing in particular.

She was in so much shit.

* * *

><p>"Fade" was that piece-of-shit Harkin Shepard remembered from two years ago. After he tried to give them the run-around, they tracked him down and shot up his place. That didn't seem to be quite enough to get him to spill what they wanted, but Garrus apparently had become much more handy with interrogation during his days at Omega.<p>

Uncharacteristically so; she found herself grateful that he could still feel her touch when she gently pulled him back. The move wasn't out of pity or compassion for Harkin—fuck him—but out of concern for Garrus himself. Maybe he could be rough, sure, but he was always a goddamn gentleman at the end of the day. She let Garrus shoot the man in the leg, and even let Harkin know how good his luck was that it was Garrus who had the gun on him and not her. But Garrus's behavior gnawed on her all the same.

What happened to him? Was this because of Sidonis? God, if it was, she had some of her own wrath to deal out.

She questioned him about it on the drive over. She might've felt bad for Jacob in the back, having to listen in on someone else's personal life, but she was more worried about other things.

"Talk all you want, but it won't change my mind. I don't care what his reasons were. He screwed us. He deserves to die."

"I understand what you're going through,"_ That's what scares me._ "But do you really want to kill him?"

"That's a surprise, coming from you." He might as well have slapped her for how the hypocrisy felt to her.

She turned away. "I won't mention it again. I'd do the same if I were you."

"I learned from the best."

That calmed her. Maybe she was making the right decision here. She never really hesitated to kill someone when the situation called for it before. She wasn't what one would call trigger happy, but an enemy would more likely be dead than not when she was involved. Hell, they killed a dozen people just to get Garrus to this point in his revenge, so what room would she have to say "no" to him, now?

"_Shepard, can you hear me?"_

"Loud and clear."

As she walked up to the turian—average man, wouldn't have been able to pull him from anyone else in a line-up if she were completely honest—it dawned on her what was different. This wasn't a man fighting for his life, giving her hell and reason to kill him. In a sense, that was sick in itself; was she really just like one of those twenty-first century cops who just needed you to resist arrest to justify the original arrest?

Would it feel better if she dragged him, kicking and screaming, to a back-ally before she beat him to death? It probably would.

"_All right. There he is. Wave him over and keep him talking."_

Sidonis looked worried as she gestured for him to approach. Yes, it definitely would feel better. This bastard hurt Garrus. He wounded him in such a grievous way that she could never fix, and if she had her way, she'd tear him limb from limb. She'd choke the air right out of his throat. She'd beat his head into the Citadel flooring.

She'd do it, too. In a heartbeat, she'd be on this nervous turian and throwing him over a balcony for Garrus. She'd do all the damage, get all the blood on her hands, take all the blame. She was the monster that was sent in to eradicate, to assassinate and destroy when others with too weak of stomachs would try. She was the one who could take the hard shit and the consequences with them. She made the orders that haunted people.

She was the beast.

"_You're in my shot. Move to the side."_

But, in the end, this was Garrus's shot. This was his kill, his duty to take care of; she understood just as well as any other military lifer the importance of responsibility of the unit onto their superiors, and how imperative it was to keep these transgressions inside and root them out at the source. It had to be doubly-so in turian culture. This happened to Garrus's team, not hers.

This was _Garrus's_ shot. Not hers.

"This won't take long at all."

"You one of Harkin's men? I don't remember seeing you." The flanged voice was unfamiliar. Once again, she couldn't pick it out from a group if she had to.

But Garrus knew it. _"That's it. Just keep him talking a few more seconds."_

She knew her face was set straight, and that she wasn't clenching her fists. Her poker-face was such that she could keep a clear expression while talking with anyone if she needed to; that's a necessary skill in the military. No matter how much you might want to leap onto your drill sergeant and rip his throat out with your teeth, you knew if you let an atom of your flesh slip to show it, you'd be elbow-deep in sanitation duty for a week.

"I was told Harkin was one of the best." _Oh, a nice accidental past-tense, there. _"This better not happen again."

He looked alarmed. What if she _didn't_ step to the side? Would Sidonis get away? He'd certainly try; Garrus wouldn't have let him on his team if he were stupid.

And this was Garrus's shot.

...Except, no. There was something else.

"Oh, it won't. Don't worry." She lunged forward and twisted his arm. "I'll make sure of that."

"What?" He tried to pull himself out of her grip, but her augments made her grasp tight and she forced him to turn with his arm to his back. "Oh, _shit_. Who the hell _are_ you working for?"

"I'd struggle a little less if I were you." Her voice was low, and she surreptitiously jabbed the barrel of a pistol into his lower back, making sure he _felt_ it. "One centimeter too far away from me and your skull will have a new high-caliber piercing."

"Shit!" He cursed again in a harsh whisper, but he stopped resisting. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"_Damnit Shepard! What are you doi-"_

It took some quick hand-work to turn off the channel with him and return the gun to Sidonis's back. "Jacob. You're going to need to distract Garrus for me while I do this. Hold him off as long as you can."

"_Really, Commander? I hope you know what you're doing."_

"Garrus?" The turian shook underneath her hand. At this time, she realized how weak his muscles were. Was Garrus particularly strong or was Sidonis that much weaker? "What the hell is going on?"

"You're going on a little trip, and if you strike the galactic lottery, it might not even be your last one." She shoved the weapon a little harder into him. "Now, we are going to start moving, and moving quickly. There's a C-Sec checkpoint we have to get through and I would appreciate it if you didn't do anything stupid. I'd rather not waste time explaining to Bailey why I have bits of turian brain all over me."

He marched as directed, because even he was an order-taking turian at heart, but he still had some fight in him. "And not about the person that you're obviously kidnapping?"

"You'd be surprised what a Spectre could get away with on the Citadel."

"_Spectre?_" He cried. She felt him shake again. "Who the hell _are_ you?"

"Your worst nightmare."


	23. Godfather Death

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

AAAAAAHHH TECHNICAL ISSUES WITH WORK! HOW AM I GOING TO PAY MY BILLS DAMNIT?!

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><p>Commander Shepard was supposed to be dead. The whole galaxy knew it. Garrus Vakarian knew it, otherwise what else would he have been mourning back at Omega?<p>

But, here Lantar was, standing beside a supposed dead woman while being processed through C-Sec. The old human officer looked over Lantar, then greeted the commander warmly, if professionally. " Ah, Commander Shepard, of course. I think I have you to thank for the present the boys found just a bit ago. Harkin always was more trouble than he was worth."

That was when he felt like his stomach dropped out of his carapace. Shepard had already stowed away her firearm before getting this far, but he knew trying anything here would be suicide. _Commander Shepard is dead, _he tried to tell himself, again and again.

"Garrus would agree," she returned. "Speaking of, he'll be through a little after me. He just had to do some clean-up, and he's in a bad mood about it."

"You're harsh on the kid," he laughed, then gestured to Lantar. "Anyway, what about your friend, here? Another one of Harkin's you've got for me?"

"Actually, this guy," She twisted his arm a little more, and pain shot all the way up his shoulder. "I will be bringing with me onto the _Normandy_. I need him to finish up a mission I'm on."

"Right." Maybe Bailey didn't completely believe her, but instead of questioning her further like Lantar hoped (Spirits, who would think he'd actually _want_ C-Sec to interfere at this point?), he said, "Yes, well, maybe I should loan you some cuffs so you have your hands free."

"I'll make sure they're returned as soon as I'm finished with them."

_What about the fact that Shepard died two years ago?_ Lantar wanted to scream. _Aren't you going to stop her for that?_ He probably already did, but should it really be this easy? For a woman who's death was plastered all over the news for weeks to just walk around unharrassed? _How the hell could this be Commander Shepard? How?_

Was she really alive the entire time? Maybe Garrus was just running an operation for her on Omega; maybe she came for him today because he fucked up her plans when he betrayed them, and she wanted payback. _Then what about Garrus?_ She was having someone else hold him off, right? Garrus was going to blast his brains out all over the wards if it weren't for her. Sidonis knew that; the whole reason he disappeared was to avoid crossing paths with Garrus—and any of the mercs—again.

But he heard _plenty_ about Commander Shepard, and it dawned on him that Garrus's way might have been the merciful choice. He might have just jumped from the frying pan and into the fire without fully realizing it.

Cool metal closed around his wrists. She shut them tight, but it was a great deal more comfortable than the human's brute strength torquing his shoulder and elbow.

There were no more breaks after that. Shepard kept them at a brisk march towards the ship—the _Normandy_, the one that supposedly fell with it's commanding officer two years ago. The on-board VI interface popped up.

"Welcome aboard, Commander."

"EDI," she shot back, "Call our 'guests' to the mess hall for me. I'm bringing a friend to visit."

"Understood. Should I call for a security detail as well?"

The person in the pilot chair swiveled around, curious. "Wha—hey Commander, are we taking prisoners, now? Because we don't exactly have a brig on board, though I guess we can have Grunt clear out a wing of the cargo bay for you."

"That won't be necessary. Do me a favor and slow Garrus down a little bit when he gets here."

"...Do I want to know? I have a feeling I don't want to know, and yet there are _so_ many questions."

Shepard didn't answer and just escorted Lantar further in. Most of the crew opted to pretend they didn't see him instead of acknowledge that their commander was shoving a captured man into their elevator. He hit the wall softly, didn't look back at her when she followed him in, and prayed to the spirits the long, quiet ride down.

When the doors finally reopened, she didn't even need to push him around, anymore; her clipped order was enough to make him sulk out into the open, head down. Some familiar voices came to him, suddenly hushed with his entrance, and his eyes shot up.

Mierin, Butler, and Melanis were all staring back at him.

Spirits, he wanted to cry out, in both fear and relief. Instead, he whispered their names, hoped for something, though he wasn't sure what he could hope for. That there were still more survivors? That they had forgiven him? That last one was impossible; Melanis certainly didn't, and he couldn't blame her.

Speaking of Melanis, her expression was particularly telling; her features were frozen in fear. Did she remember that night he found her drunk in the wards? Shit, he hoped not, though it was no wonder he was found if that was the case. She didn't need to have something like that on her mind.

"Sidonis!" Mierin screeched, breaking the silence he wasn't aware of for the pounding in his ears, and her face filled his vision. Dark energy crackled all around him, and she was an instant later pulled back by Butler.

"Control yourself!"

"He fucking betrayed us! They're all dead because of him! Sensat died because of what this bastard did!"

"Mierin!"

"If he hadn't sold us out, Sensat would still be alive! And then maybe I... maybe Vortash...!"

Lantar balked back a little bit, fighting against his restraints for fear of his life; Mierin might've been a sweet soul at times, but he saw personally that she wasn't a push-over when her biotics were out. Shepard walked up beside him, and he took the chance to glare at her. "What the hell is this?" he demanded, "What are you trying to prove?"

"Not a damn thing," she responded easily. She pulled out a pistol, made a show of looking it over, then threw it at Melanis. The poor woman was so dumbstruck she nearly didn't catch it.

"Remember how I said you get to choose your own punishment, Melanis? Well, here you go, make your choice. But you should probably decide quickly, though; if Mierin doesn't get to him, Garrus will."

Those scared eyes focused on Shepard before they returned to him, then the pistol came up to level the barrel between his eyes.

* * *

><p>"She brought him onto the <em>ship?!"<em> Garrus cried incredulously as he and Jacob left Bailey behind. "What the hell is Shepard _thinking?_"

"Garrus, maybe it's good she's a little ahead. You might need to calm down before you two talk."

"I'm not angry at her." He growled. "Well, I am, but because Lantar Sidonis sold out good people to save his own skin. He needs to be taken out... not taken onto a damned ride."

They ran up the gangplank and into the airlock, waiting for the scans to run. "Look, I don't pretend to understand how Shepard works, but I doubt she wouldn't have done this without a good reason."

"Like what? What _possible_ reason could she have to do this?" The systems hummed as they ran over them. "Damnit, EDI, what's taking so long?"

"Please allow the sterilization system to run to its completion," she chirped.

"I don't _know_, man," Jacob crossed his arms. "That C-Sec officer said he gave her some cuffs, though, so it's not like he's running around free. I can see why this would be frustrating, _trust me_, but this is probably the maddest I've ever seen you."

"That bastard—that _coward_—_he_ is the reason I only have three member's of my team left from Omega. He thought he could get away with this." His sub-vocals turned incredulous, biting back a painful laugh. "But he's not. No one is going to keep that from happening." _Not even Shepard._

_So, _please_, don't do this to me._

"Welcome aboard," EDI said obliviously when the doors finally shunted open. Joker was already swiveled around to see at them as they entered. He was wanting a show.

"Hey!" he called out, "What's going on? Shepard starting a turian mating commune?"

Garrus merely shot a glare at him, then turned to EDI's avatar. "Where's the commander?"

"She is in the mess hall. I would recommend urgency as likelihood of an altercation as you wait is quickly approaching one." He was already moving before she finished.

"Aw, come on!" Joker shouted after him, "Even if you're jealous of the new alpha-male choice, I have to know these things! There are regulations for transporting live cargo, you know!"

"Joker, I'll fill you in. Just don't antagonize h-" The door closed the moment Garrus slammed a hand into the panel, cutting off Jacob's advice.

For the long ride down, he seethed in confusion. He tried not to think words, tried not to think about Shepard or what she was trying to do. He had to keep his mind clear of that, damnit. _Just focus on Sidonis._

When the doors opened, he wasn't very well prepared for the scene, though to be honest he didn't know what to expect. Sidonis was on this knees, hands cuffed at his back. Mierin was sobbing and furiously wiping away the tears coming down her cheeks while Shepard and Butler watched Melanis. Melanis, young Melanis, had a pistol to Sidonis's head in preparation for an execution.

If he had more mind to him at the moment, he might've recognized that it was Shepard's pistol. At the moment, however, he was too preoccupied, marching up in a hurry. "Wait! What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

All eyes went to him except the man at the floor, whose back was turned and was in no position to turn. However, by how he stiffened, it was clear he knew full-well who was behind him. Shepard's expression, damn her, was cold and stiff. The others were varying flavors of surprised, with Melanis having the most heart-wrenching expression.

She tried to speak, "Garrus..."

"I asked a question, didn't I?"

"I-I..."

Shepard grew impatient and turned her head to Melanis, though her shoulders were still squared towards Garrus. "Hurry up and make your choice, or let somebody else make it for you!"

Unease slid down Garrus from his shoulders. Shepard saved Sidonis from his shot... to have him be executed by Melanis instead? Why would she... _this isn't Melanis's job!_

Melanis flinched and she was shaking like a leaf. It had turned deadly silent around them, such that the only noise heard could be heavy breaths and the soft rattle of the gun in the woman's shivering hand. The moment stretched long.

Then, the pistol fell from her grasp and she backed away from it as if it were diseased, hands up in defeat. "I can't... I can't!" Her harmonics keened in distress.

A second later, Mierin broke over to her to wrap her arms around her. The two cried noisily together.

Garrus gestured in exasperation and walked within the circle of people. "What is going on?"

Shepard still didn't look at him; instead, she referred to the two sobbing women. "Melanis, you're out of the roster for the next week. Same for you, Mierin, unless you do a session with Chambers and she convinces me to clear you." She crossed her arms. "You're both dismissed."

They both made short nods and scattered away as quickly as they could.

Sidonis slowly turned his eyes towards Garrus before he risked facing him. "Garrus, I..."

"I don't want to hear your excuses," Garrus spat.

"They got to me!" he tried anyway, "I had no choice! They said if I didn't help them-" His point wasn't finished, as he was interrupted by Butler's prosthetic leg slamming into his face. He crumpled to the side from the blow, and the human sniffed indignantly and walked away, as if that was the only thing he needed to do there.

At the finish of that, it left only Garrus, Shepard, and Sidonis standing there. Any Cerberus crew had vacated before Garrus had even gotten on the level, likely seeing the obvious fight that was brewing.

"I brought Sidonis here," Shepard started in a low voice. The diction was curt but careful, and Garrus wasn't sure if he should be angrier or soothed because of it, "because he had unfinished business with the rest of your team, who are now in _my_ crew. It's now my responsibility that they all perform as necessary for the upcoming mission, because I don't want anyone going into a suicide mission with distractions like this on mind."

"And what about me, Shepard?" Garrus held his arms out wide. "Don't my distractions and my responsibilities mean a damn?"

"Of course they do." She went over to the pistol Melanis had dropped, picked it up, and tossed it at him. "There was no danger of anyone taking your shot away from you."

He checked the chambers. Sure enough, they were empty. His mandibles were tight as he looked up at her. "Why not tell me? Why go through the trouble of keeping me from shooting him in the first place?"

She made a bitter laugh. "I have a habit of making decisions like this on the fly, Vakarian. You know that better than anyone."

"Sure, but... you could have _told_ me. Why do it _like this?_"

"What would you have me say? That before you executed this asshole, I was going to bring him onto the _Normandy_ to see the last three members of your team?'" She grabbed the struggling turian on the floor by the collar and hoisted him up on his feet. He grunted and choked with the movement, but he did stand, even as she growled some sort of threat in his ear that Garrus couldn't make out. Then she said, "I'm going into AI Core to talk to Legion; you do what you need to do. I'll send you the keycode to the cuffs; mind your surroundings, though." A clear reference to EDI and the surveillance equipment Cerberus had outfitted into the ship.

She left, armored boots clacking, and there were two.

Sidonis watched as she left, then looked at the ground in defeat. "If it there's anything I could say..."

"_Nothing_. Don't even try."

His face shot up to face him. "I didn't have a choice!"

"There's _always_ a choice!"

"But..." Sidonis sneered and himself and took a step back. "I didn't want to. If they hadn't... you have no idea _what_ they were doing. How they got to me. How they _found_ me. And every day after..." He stopped and choked, as if swallowing words. "I saw everyone's faces every time I closed my eyes! I could hardly sleep or eat. Now knowing now that... that some of the team survived... if I wasn't so sure I was going to die right now, this'd be the happiest day of my life."

"Makes it almost worth the agony of betraying us in the first place, doesn't it?"

"That's not..." He sighed and shook his head. "Could I... at least have a meal, first?"

"Give me one good reason I should."

"Last request before execution."

Garrus's mandibles tightened in a frown, but he gestured to the counter where Sidonis then sat. "Not many dextro options; just military rations."

"I didn't expect steak."

It didn't take much rooting around in the pantry to find his food; although Gardner actually had been trained in the ability to prepare turian food, it was easier (and, frankly, safer) to use self-prepared food, especially as there had to be no cross-contamination. He swiped up a pre-made package and tossed it over at Sidonis.

Sidonis, like most turians, was used to military rations and knew how to open the package and cut out the edible bits with the least hassle as well as anyone who might've had to eat these things for days at a time. He made a small nod of thanks as he did and went to eating as if he hadn't had anything for days.

Garrus must've been making a strange look, because Sidonis seemed to feel the need to justify the gusto. "I, ah, hadn't been eating well lately. This is the first food that... tasted like anything for a while." He took another quick bite and looked up from where he was hunched over the plate. "Could... you tell Mel something for me? After, you know, this is all over with."

"What is it?"

"Could you tell her..." His mandibles pensively pressed against his face and he straightened in his seat. He seemed to be considering what he should say next. "...Mel, she's young. She's impulsive, not really trained for behavior management, and she's bad for internalizing, you know? I just want her to know that... anything she might blame herself about concerning this whole mess, nothing here is her fault."

Garrus tightened his own jaw. Where does he get off asking for favors on the sake of his former team. "Damn right it isn't her fault."

Sidonis made a weak laugh. "Yeah, well, I'd like to let her know that in person, but I don't think I'm going to get that chance. Anyway I guess... there isn't really anything I could say that could make any of this right." He looked back down to his disposable all-in-one plate and continued spearing little bits of food to eat.

Garrus clenched his hands a few more times, a righteous anger burning in him and a cloudy head that was firing all sorts of messages to him. Judgments shot through his synapses like the bullets of a firefight. And, for once, even he though this battlefield had been somewhat altered by Shepard, she wasn't the one giving the orders.

What sort of man starves himself with his own guilt to the point of eating military rations happily could he be if he was not a good man.

He looked down at his straining fists. "Finish your meal, Sidonis, then get the hell out of my sight."

He nearly dropped his utensil. "What?"

"I said swallow your damn sauce-and-protein packet and leave the _Normandy_ before I change my mind." He got up and looked at the ceiling. "EDI, I'm going to the Battery to start my shift and I don't want to be disturbed. Make sure Sidonis finishes up and leaves without another word. I'm sure you can get clearance to assign an escort if needed."

"I have been given orders to follow your decision, Mr. Vakarian. If that how you wish to proceed, then I will ensure complete success."

Garrus nodded and marched away. He could feel Sidonis's surprised eyes following him and hear the chair he was sitting in screech as he rose. "Wait! Is that it? I-"

"I'm not interested in anything else you want to say, Lantar. Just do as I say and find the door when you're done."

"Right." A pause. "Thank-" Garrus had managed to shut the door before he could hear anything else, because he sure as hell couldn't take hearing about that bastard's gratitude.

He leaned heavily on his console, wanting to punch it, wanting to get into some sort of fight, but only felt his anger draining and his hatred settling coldly in his gut. Hatred for what, he couldn't say. Hatred for Sidonis, maybe. Maybe it was Shepard. Or the situation. Or maybe he just had a healthy dose of turian self-loathing with a side of shattered responsibilities.

EDI attempted to pop up and helpfully inform him of Sidonis's departure, but he snapped at her to keep her big, blue ball shut. He didn't want to hear about it; he didn't want to know about a damn thing that was happening outside if this room right now.

He did wonder later briefly, as he was finally allowing himself to lay down, how long Shepard had stayed in the AI Core, if she had a nice conversation with the geth or if she stood in there awkwardly the entire time waiting for him to finish. It wasn't thought on much as he drifted off.

* * *

><p>When Lantar exited the ship, he was shaking like a man who had faced death and knew he shouldn't be alive to tell about it. He wasn't very sure if he should be happy or glad to be spared at the last minute, but he had another chance at life, regardless, so there was no sense not to make the most of it.<p>

The exit was uneventful. Some of the people stared, but they didn't seem particularly interested in him so long as he got out of their way. The ship's VI was the only voice talking directly to him the whole time, until he stepped out into the docks and was completely alone again.

He couldn't bear to think about Garrus's decision, for the raw fear and loathing it cropped up in him if not for the eerie feeling that questioning it _would_ cause his death even now. Instead, he thought of Shepard's parting words; she had grabbed him right before his final test of judgment for his life once again and told him, by a harsh whisper to his ear, something he hadn't really expected.

"_He doesn't know about Melanis."_

Lantar wasn't exactly sure what to make of that, or the extent of what she meant by that; it begged the question of what did _Commander Shepard _know about that night on the Citadel not too long ago. And just like that, he felt a need to tie that loose end before Garrus ended the whole conversation in a permanent way. Garrus didn't know anything, Shepard knows something, and poor Melanis who was hammered out of her mind had been put into a precarious position because of it, if only for her own conscience.

Young, beautiful Melanis, who used to follow Garrus like a lost puppy while Garrus kept looking ahead at something nobody else could see. Even after that night on the Citadel, Lantar wasn't completely sure he hadn't imagined the whole thing; even his account wasn't glanced at with a strange belief of making that event either a tangible fact or a fabricated illusion; the unopened box was much safer than the moral consequences.

Shepard's few words shattered that.

He took composure of himself and forced himself to look at the ship again. The sleek model was rather similar to the _Normandy_ that had supposedly gone down two years ago with its commanding officer; he'd seen more than a couple pictures of it in news articles. Whatever Garrus's operation actually was on Omega, it was clear that whatever it was that he was looking forward to back on Omega was on this ship.

And, in his own way, that was the same now for Lantar, though contacting Mel and letting her know that himself was out of the question even though it was now in the realm of possibility. He huffed, knowing that going back to his fancy-but-uninteresting apartment was going to be a pain in the ass due to Shepard's shove-through with C-Sec, and went towards the ticket booth instead.


	24. What is the Fastest Thing in the World?

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

Fucking finally! How long has it been? Don't answer that, we don't need to discuss it. This rewrite takes things a little differently than the original chapter I was writing was going for (and was lost to the destruction of the flash drive it was on). But, you know, here it is!

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><p>"Commander, you have requested I inform you of Mr. Vakarian's choice. Lantar Sidonis has left the ship," EDI announced<p>

Shepard's easy mood she had managed these past few minutes dropped to the floor like a full teacup and she grimaced. "Unharmed?"

"Other than the assault from Mr. Butler which you witnessed, he has not taken any damage while aboard."

"Understood. Thank you, EDI. You're dismissed."

"Logging you out, Shepard." The ball blinked away.

"Shepard-Commander." The thin plates over Legion's light-emitting diode fluttered. "This development does not appear to be one you wanted. Is it detrimental to the success of our mission?"

"No, it has nothing to do with the mission," she sighed, and shook her head, "I had just hoped... Nevermind. It's a personal matter. There will be no effect one way or another."

"We would like to know what importance it holds if it is not to the mission. We are curious as to your motives."

She considered it, whether or not Legion should be exposed to the harsher truths of sentient nature. Then again, a race that was enslaved and then genocided by its parents must've seen worse. And, for once, Shepard wanted to get it off her chest. "Sidonis has wronged Garrus badly in the past; he's responsible for so many of his squad being dead."

"And Officer Vakarian does not wish to harm him?"

"He _did_, but he must have changed his mind." She rubbed her shoulder. "But, if I had it my way, he'd be our ship's new hood ornament."

Legion considered this a moment, and Shepard thought it may make an observation about how inefficient and illogical a biological organism would be as a decoration on a starship. Instead, it said, "You are upset not for your own sake. We understand."

A laugh gets into her voice despite herself. "You understand revenge?"

"Yes. We also understand protection, and the conflict that occurs when consensus is not reached. You and Officer Vakarian have not reached consensus on this protection."

"That's one way to put it. Thank you for the perspective, Legion."

"We thank you as well, Shepard-Commander."

She ended up leaving the AI Core in a much better mood than she thought she would be in, going straight to work. She had reports to do, resources to obtain, dossiers to look over. _Turians to avoid. _He would have questions when he's ready to ask them. She hoped it would be a while before he was ready.

Hope was all she had, because she knew she didn't have anywhere to run when it came down to it. No matter where she went, she had given Garrus permission to enter her room at will. Hiding there would do no good, and if she left, he would be here waiting for her. It hit her bitterly, on one of the moments she allowed herself between reading files, that when she agreed to be a little more serious with him, she had given up some of her independence. Her right to privacy won with her rise to commanding officer of a ship was now compromised, and she had given this up willingly. The one time since giving him the permission she attempted any barring against him lead to his hacking the door.

She sighed and picked up the next data pad, knowing she was not cut out for this. This was not a new revelation, but she thought that since she treated Garrus so much better than anyone vying for her attentions on the SR1, this time would be different.

Garrus came, as expected, much later, when it was time for her to go to bed, as evident by his catching her pulling on the clothes she preferred to sleep in when alone. He must've just managed to force himself to finally confront her.

"Shepard." He tried to keep his expression unreadable, but tension rippled through his armored figure.

"I heard you let Sidonis go."

She must've let something slip as well, because he responded, "That result wasn't exactly what you wanted?"

"What I want doesn't matter. It was your shot." She managed to avoid eye contact by putting attention to pulling up her shorts, but she didn't turn away before seeing the muscles in his neck clench.

"So much my shot that you interfered, anyway. What's this about?"

"You'll have to be more specific."

He stepped forward, crowding into her space, and she could his temper getting away from him. "I can't help but feel like you just put me to some sort of _test_ and I _failed_. What happened down there, Shepard? Was this really about 'unfinished business' with _my_ team?"

"Everything I said downstairs was true. If you're concerned about the details, then you don't need to be."

"Well, I _am_ concerned about them." He pressed more, but she didn't retreat and looked at him again. "I let that traitorous bastard go, and I don't know _why_ I did it. All I know is that when I came up on that deck, Melanis had your pistol aimed at his head. Do you really think I wouldn't want to know what angle you were playing?"

"Garrus." She breathed. She could feel the blood surge up over her shoulders, the rise of a fight in her. She was always so quick to let it jump out before. Her eyes stayed squared ahead. "I didn't want anything that happened down there to happen the way it did. But if I avoided it any longer, it would have been a lot worse."

"Is that why you stood there as if everything went according to plan while Mel and Mierin were sobbing all over each other?"

He was searching for buttons, trying to key up a fight. She should give it to him, tear him down like she did countless hopefuls before. Win back her cabin, her independence, her identity as a lonely killer who pressed hard and took no prisoners.

She was silent, waiting for the angel and the devil to appear on her shoulders to tell her what to do.

And the decision was made for her. "If you wont answer me, I'll ask Mel what's going on." He turned to leave, but she caught his shoulder and turned him around to face her as she craned her neck up at him.

"You will _not_ speak with Melanis about this."

"Is that an order?"

"_Yes_. And I trust you know what happens with insubordination on my ship, _Vakarian_, so don't test me."

He pulled back for the first time since coming in, and she recognized why by the look on his face. The use of his last name had shaken him. "I've known Mel longer than you have, Shepard. You can't just... _disallow_ me to talk to her."

"Talk to her all you like, but if you try to get one word out from her about what happened down there and I hear about it, you're gone. I'll kick you off the ship so fast EDI won't have a chance to log you out of the system." What Mel had done was private information, and it was her duty as the commanding officer to keep what was entrusted to her that way. It would not do to have the knowledge that an active crew member had plead guilty to the rape of a civilian. A traitor, a coward, and a scumbag who deserved to die, but a civilian, nonetheless. A rape that occurred between her shifts on this ship, during a time that wasn't even technically shore leave. Scuttlebutt like that would demolish the unit cohesion she fought so hard to obtain, not to mention Shepard had no idea if Mel had anything to fall back on if she is forced off the ship herself.

"You wouldn't..." Garrus shrank. "You're-you're _bluffing_." His anger may have dwindled, but Shepard's had taken its turn.

"Don't fucking test me." She turned away from him once again, not having a particular reason to, but not wanting to look him in the face any longer. She refrained huffing a frustrated breath through her nose and waived a hand. "Dismissed."

"... Shepa-"

"I _said_," she bit out caustically, "You. Are. Dismissed."

She may have not been looking directly at him, but she saw his retreat, heard the door shift open and shut, and she went back into her routine before sleep. The bedsheets she won from this battle were the familiar, cold ones she had been so accustomed to before. She went to sleep thinking about what Legion said about consensus.

* * *

><p>Garrus retreated to the Main Battery, unsure of what happened.<p>

"Thin ice" was the one thing Shepard made clear to him from their talk, but he was awash with other questions. What exactly was Shepard trying to prove with Sidonis? What does Melanis have to do with any of this? And...did he just get dumped?

_It was just one of those"lover's tiffs". That's all._

_But the way she told me to get out sounded pretty final._

_That's just the way she talks. She just wants to be alone for a bit. She'll be all suggestive grins and bloodthirsty smiles in the morning._

_If she didn't break up with me, then why was she so calm up until that point?_

Shepard wasn't typically a passionate person; cold was much more common for her. Cold means she thought about it. Cold means she can weigh options before making a decision, and the decision she made was to kick him out. Garrus's chest clenched; he really hoped he was wrong. To hell with his bruised pride; he would let Sidonis dance away alive a hundred times without a single complaint if it meant staying with Shepard.

Still, couples fight, and they would have to have their first one eventually. He paced the room, agitated, and tried to sit down. Sitting made him restless since he wasn't tired, so he tried pulling up his omnitool to find something to distract him.

He pulled up his mail and cursed. Damn his father and his sense of timing.

_To: Garrus Vakarian, Commander Shepard_

_Subject: Meeting_

_I've nearly gotten everything set up like I promised. Like I mentioned before, I have been speaking with Fedorian and he was open to an allocation of resources, if not outright consideration of the threat. There are some matters I would like to discuss over concerning this, and speaking face-to-face is always the best for these matters._

_I'm set to rent a space on Noveria. Might not be the most exciting place, but I can more easily have it swept for bugs than anywhere on the Citadel or Palaven (more so with Palaven; I feel my questioning this matter with higher ups may be getting unwanted attention). I will be bringing various forms and materials from the Hierarchy, and I expect you will bring what you can on the enemy's movements and any evidence that could be provided._

_Of course, there's also the matter of the Parental Meeting. I'd like to take the chance to finish that as well. I expect you'll be ready; Shepard, you can, of course, represent your own family's interest as well as your own. I will be representing the Vakarians'; my wife would love join us, but she has to stay planet-side at this time._

_All this together will take up some time, so you will need to schedule a day, and I'm sure you're constantly elbow-deep into work if what I've heard described about you is correct, Commander. Let me know when you've chosen a time and I'll have everything set to be there; the weather there is not exactly good for an extended vacation so I'd rather not stay any longer than I have to._

_Jurian Vakarian_

Garrus groaned and fell back into his cot. This development could be all-together worse, he knew; his father may have wanted to set up the meeting without any discussion on the Reapers and forced him (or Shepard) to tell him that the room was possibly unnecessary. So it gave him some time; he'll patch things up with Shepard, maybe start doing more romantic gestures after that to build up their relationship to something a lot more solid than it had been, and _then_ he could worry about what his father was plotting for him.

No, that wasn't possible. Shepard could very likely drop everything to get to Noveria, if it meant getting an edge against the Reapers. Even if she didn't, there was no guarantee he could sweep her off her feet and remind her of why they were together when he was so sure they were only together as a fluke, anyway. He was going to have to force things, one way or another, and quickly.

Then a thought came to him. Not a pleasant thought, but a well-calculated one, nonetheless.

* * *

><p>"Mel, can I speak with you a moment?"<p>

Melanis looked up at Garrus, feeling out-of-sorts, but not surprised to see him sitting near her with his own food at the Mess. Of course he would be talking with her eventually; at least he waited until the next day to start, because if he asked anything yesterday, she would have been a mess. "Of course."

"How are you feeling?" he began amicably. "I don't know what exactly happened yesterday, but I wanted to see if you were alright."

"I'm fine. I mean, I'm good." She felt a little tension lock up into her, but tried to ignore it so that it wouldn't show. "Did Shepard not tell you-" Wait. Better play it safe, just in case. "-what she was doing? I mean, when she brought him on board?"

He shook his head. "No, and now that I've had some time to calm down about it, I feel a little silly getting so upset over it. She had good reason, I'm sure, but sometimes her methods can be a little... well, you know."

She nodded and went quiet, trying to excuse her silence with her meal. Unfortunately, she was picking at it like a child. Eventually, it got to her, that he wasn't talking even though he was just sitting there, eating his own dish untroubled.

"Hey," she finally asked, "Had I shot the pistol... would Shepard have taken me into C-Sec? I mean, we were still docked, you know."

His eyes looked up at her with a little surprise. "If she was, the charges would have been for the death threat that was already occurring. Did she not tell you it wasn't loaded, yet?"

"Huh?" She had to blink and reset to understand. "It wasn't even _loaded_?"

"No."

A weird panic clawed up in her. "Then what was she... did she know that I..." She clenched her hands and pulled back from her meal. "Did she _know_ I wasn't going to shoot?"

He frowned. "I doubt that. That was _her_ pistol, and she always makes sure it's ready for fire."

"But..." She made a whine and ran a hand over her short fringe. She wanted to stand and start pacing, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to make a spectacle of her agitation quite yet. "If I had pulled the trigger... what does that mean? She told me I had a _choice _in my punishment."

Garrus hummed in thought a moment. He knew the commander longer, so he must've been trying to figure out how to explain her motives. "I guess the choice is... well, the choice she gave you was to either choose to spare him, or to choose to realize that your actions are not yours to control."

Melanis couldn't help it; she cringed and shivered, still confused and unsure if she should feel more or less disturbed with this information.

_Your actions are not yours to control._

_Oh spirits._

"Garrus, don't you even want to know _why_ she was punishing me?"

"It's not my place to pry. And, besides, I'm sure you'd rather finish your meal than relive unpleasant memories in front of the crew."

Melanis glanced around them. Sure enough, they weren't alone, though it wasn't like everyone was present. A few Cerberus humans, the krogan, and the quarian ate, chatting to each other. They may not have overheard what they were talking about, but she doubted they didn't notice that something interesting was definitely being discussed over here.

She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the Main Battery. Garrus seemed to trip over his own feet from being moved against his will, but he didn't protest.

The doors slid shut behind them and she stood ramrod straight, staring at him, then at the floor, then at her hands, while Garrus merely waited for her to explain patiently. She searched for the right words, the right sequence, and after what may have been a full minute of second-guessing, she started.

"You know that night we were docked overnight on the Citadel? I think I even drunk-dialed you while we were there."

His gaze perked and he nodded.

"I..." Where to start? "...saw Sidonis while I was there."

"You couldn't be upset that you didn't tell me."

She frowned and shook her head. "No. I mean, yes, but that's not what this is about. I didn't tell you because..." Spirits, she didn't want to just blurt this out. Is there even a tactical way of putting this? "...I didn't just _see_ him."

Garrus didn't speak, just stood, waiting. He wasn't showing judgment, but he wasn't offering anything, either. The silence made her panic and she rushed forward.

"He saw me stumbling around drunk, and said he was concerned about me. He dragged me to a fancy hotel intent on leaving me there to sober up, but I was so pissed off. And drunk. So I attacked him. Threw everything at him. Pinned him. But being angry and drunk, that's no excuse... I..."

"You raped him."

She shut down and nodded.

Garrus was quiet a long while, and she hated it. He wasn't withdrawing or yelling or—not that he would—laughing at the situation. He was just considering something.

Then he said, "Before he left the _Normandy_, he gave me a message to pass to you, to let you know that nothing in this situation is your fault." He crossed his arms and leaned on one leg, but instead of staring her down, looked away. "I wasn't there that night, and I'm not saying this makes your behavior acceptable, but I don't think he feels particularly victimized by your assault."

That didn't help anything. Melanis felt lost, and she must have looked lost, too, because he followed with, "Idiot that I am, I left him alive, so you can always track him down again confirm that for yourself if you need closure."

"Why did you let him live?"

"Honestly? I have no idea."

Another pause, but this one at least didn't have an entrapment feel to it. She breathed and nodded. "I think I'll go. Hit the showers, maybe do some armor maintenance. I need to clear my head."

"You do that. I'll be here if you need to talk."

She wasn't sure if she felt lighter, but she definitely felt different. Whether or not this talk was a good thing, it definitely put her into a less nerve-wracked position than she had been in. She turned, intending to retreat to somewhere she could be alone for reflection and hoped she would not run into anyone.

The doors slid open automatically, and she nearly screamed and lept for one of the reddish light fixtures above when she saw the hard, cold glare of the ship's commander on the other side.

For a split second, Melanis earnestly knew Shepard had changed her mind and was now here to execute her, for her crime as well as some other infringement of authority. But, instead, those eyes swung over to the man behind her, and she pushed past as if Mel was merely a potted plant with a misguided placement.

"Not even twenty-four hours and you disobey a direct order." Her tone towards Garrus had no acid or heat to it, just the chill of a sharp dagger.

"I did no such thing." Garrus's own tone lacked the humor it would normally have with the phrase, instead going for a knowing bluntness. "You said yourself that I could talk to Mel all I want as long as I don't _ask_ her about it."

"Yes, I'm sure a nice, friendly conversation requires one of the parties to be dragged by the other in front of a half-full mess hall. If you think you're calling a bluff here, Vakarian..."

"I'm not 'thinking' that at all, Commander."

"This order wasn't just a fucking power play." Her shoulders squared back and Mel could see the bitter fury coiling into a striking position. "What happened with Melanis yesterday was supposed to be kept separate from the rest of the crew for a reason. You don't get to undermine my authority as well as unit cohesion just because you _chose_ not to take your shot."

The cause of the argument trickled through Mel's brain, and she rushed to defend. "Shepard... I mean, Commander...! Garrus didn't... he didn't ask me or force me into saying anything! I told him about what happened by my own will!"

Shepard glanced at her and scowled. "I'm sure he didn't." And then she was centered on him, and then there was heat in those eyes. Quite a bit of it, in fact; the air between her and Garrus could have turned into plasma for the heat. "I'm sure a well-respected, second-generation C-Sec investigator with hours of interrogation experience would have no way of making you want to tell him everything he needs to know."

Even though the blow in the statement wasn't meant for her, Mel felt the sting of it regardless.

"Believe what you will," Garrus countered, but there wasn't an argument in there.

"I should dump you on Noveria with the paperwork."

"And miss a meeting with possibly the first real resource to take the Reaper threat seriously since Cerberus?"

Shepard's features flared, and Mel was sure she was going to punch him. Instead, she kept her scowl and said, "I wouldn't feel so comfortable at your sniper's post, Garrus."

She whirled into an about-face and marched out.

Mel stared in her wake, chanced a fearful glance at Garrus, and fled as well.


	25. The Snow Queen

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

HEY

HEY LOOK

I UPDATED THIS LIKE RIGHT AFTER I UPDATED FRUIT LOOP

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING

* * *

><p>"Commander, I highly advise against your current course of action. If you persist, my protocol demands I call Dr. Chakwas as well as some orderlies to force you to desist."<p>

"EDI, what I'm doing here is nothing more extreme than a tattoo or some other surface-scarring body modification."

"From what my records indicate, such body modifications are usually performed with the proper instruments by trained personnel. I do not think you qualify under that, and the knife you are using is meant for plastic, not skin."

"It's sterilized, isn't it? I know what I'm doing."

When Shepard had originally withdrawn into her cabin, she was shaking with unused energy. She wanted to break things, swipe datapads off her desk, throw her clock and the stupidly-placed picture frame at the case of models, but was still annoyingly rational enough that she knew that the exertion and the collateral damage would be pointless. Instead, she leaned heavily over her desk and stared ahead, scowling at her own reflection in the glass of the case.

Miranda had before bragged about how she had successfully "finished" Shepard, down to the vat-grown derma-weave with no epidermic blemishes, something she was afraid she wouldn't have time to finish due to the increasing instances of Collector attacks. In fact, the only thing she seemed to regret was the lack of remote control in her brain per the Illusive Man's interference.

The idea of being a cyborg didn't bother Shepard. The knowledge she was but a step away from being a slave... she might get over that. Eventually.

This flaw of perfection, however, was simply not acceptable.

Shepard had been scarred by her past missions, the ones that set her apart from everyone else and shown what colors she flew, what mettle she was composed of. Those scars were war paint as much as warnings; they were signs that told people that if they crossed her, if they got stupidly close, they deserved what they got.

The sign was gone, and now people were dancing around her like the threat didn't mean a thing anymore. Maybe that was a coincidence, or all in her head, but even she was getting too used to the unbroken color of skin across her nose and face.

Then she spied the small, sharp knife she used for her models. It was used to shave off the extra bits of material around the edges to remove seams and let the adhesive have a nice, flat surface to settle. She decided it was a good instrument to erect a new warning and set to work.

Trying to draw out a new scar over the bridge of her nose like her last one was difficult, between the angle and how the sting made her eyes involuntary tear up, so she gave that up and went for her cheeks. Each thin swipe would expose the fascinating red glow of augmentations, however, those same augmentations closed up the wounds quickly before her eyes.

"I need a sealant to stop it." She walked back to her models and picked up the glue. "I wonder if this is toxic..."

"Commander, I am now requesting Dr. Chakwas and informing her of your behavior."

Shepard put down the tube and rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, EDI. The cuts are superficial."

"I understand that, Shepard. However, I am concerned about extreme behavior in reaction to stressful events, and I am to understand that cutting is considered extreme behavior."

She raised her brows at EDI. With how focused she had gotten on her face, she'd all but forgotten about Garrus; EDI's comment hit like a non sequitor. "It's not like I'm cutting to get the endorphins."

Regardless, Chakwas was called up, and Shepard had to go through the explanation again. The doctor seemed to understand, but still reprimanded her for doing something as potentially damaging as this to her body without proper training or equipment, and wasn't all that impressed with the sterilization measures Shepard had taken (not because they were incorrect, but because any soldier could do simple field medicine).

"Commander, just because a scar is a badge of honor doesn't mean you've lost the honor when you lost the scars," Chakwas huffed finally.

"Sure," Shepard was past arguing the point and held up her hands, coming to terms that she was just going to have to paint bloody hand-prints on her armor or something to make up for it. "I won't slash my face anymore."

"I'm glad we could come to an understanding. Now, since I have you, I think it's a good time to remind you of all the rest you've been neglecting. The _Normandy_ is still en route, and I highly doubt the amount of reports you have now under Cerberus even approaches your old work load, especially with Ms. Lawson around."

"You may have a point." Shepard went to sit down on her couch. "If I promise to rest, would I be dismissed from your examination?"

"For now, but only as long as you keep your word. I'll have the AI keep tabs on you if need be."

"I'll be a perfect sloth until ETA approaches." If cabin-arrest was what was necessary to get the doctor out, then that was the necessary sacrifice. Luckily, it was enough, and she departed, leaving the commander alone in the loft at length.

She pulled up a display to get to working on the pattern painted on her armor. N7 stripe falling into a set of gory handprints and blood splatters, just as she promised herself. As she tried different palm placements, she thought over Garrus, over his father and the upcoming Parental Meeting, over the insubordination downstairs.

"EDI," she called out, almost engrossed to the point of distraction on the armor display, "If you don't mind, I'd like for you to pen up a message for me to a few contacts I have on Noveria, to see if they have anything needed to be taken care of while I'm in. I expect I'll be going there soon, and it never hurts to catch up with _old friends."_

* * *

><p>"I've noticed that you haven't been on any missions, lately."<p>

Garrus was going to have to get used to Kasumi popping out of nowhere like she does. She was worse than Shepard with the damn cloak and treated it like a toy. He managed to reign himself in before jumping out of his plates and gave the deadest-panned stare he could muster. "The commander has kept a fluid team rotation since the _SR-1_. My turn will come later."

"That may have been the case then, and maybe she doesn't bring you on every mission, but I'd say, oh, half would be a good measure. And you would certainly never be absent for several times in a row if all's well." She smiled. "Trouble in paradise?"

The dead-pan held. "I don't know what you're talking about." Not that his relationship with Shepard was a secret, but he wanted to keep things close to his chest until he worked this whole upset through.

"Hmm. You turians are so hard to read. I could never do well against your race on poker if I had to follow the rules."

"You know, playing against the rules too often defeats the purpose of the game."

"But finding ways around the rules is _so_ much more fun," she countered cheerily, and flittered away in a shimmer of cloaking light.

Garrus sighed at the abrupt exit and went back to work, hoping in the back of his mind that it actually _was_ an exit. Kasumi had been taking a special interest in whatever was going on between him and Shepard since she'd come aboard, but she mostly kept her knowing smirks to herself on the issue, outspoken as she could be. He supposed her good-natured snooping was as much her way of consoling people as anything.

Which was something; Mel avoided him like the plague these days. He wasn't sure if she was ashamed of his knowing what she did, or ashamed that she had dragged Garrus into and gotten him in trouble with his girlfriend.

Well, since he was bothered, anyway... "EDI, do you know when the commander has us set to go to Noveria?"

The blue ball blossomed from the console near the wall as it was accustomed. "We are currently en route to Noveria. ETA is in three hours and thirty-four minutes."

His eyes widened and his stomach sank. He was not ready to meet his father. Shepard hadn't so much as spoken to him since that day when it wasn't necessary, and any conversation about the cannon or other upgrades were strictly and coolly professional. It was more like talking to the clerk at a store he might frequent than talking to someone he was madly in love with.

And Kasumi was right; Shepard _hadn't_ brought him on missions. This was a snag in his plan, because he had assumed (and taken for granted, apparently) that even if she was angry at him, she would relent at least to have him on the ground when tactics demanded his expertise. They worked together so well, and they _felt_ each other so much on the battlefield, he was sure that he could get a strong reaction from her there. It may not be a positive reaction, but it would be a reaction.

She'd been bringing Legion, who now might as well have been her new best friend for how much time she spent with it, to fill his position. And Garrus couldn't even complain because Legion, as it turned out, was a _perfect_ squadmate.

Though he still chuckled when she accidentally fired on him once; a learned reflex to seeing a geth.

But here he was, his plan floundering. Shepard was outmaneuvering him, and as soon as they touched down, there was no reason they wouldn't go straight to his father and Shepard inform him that the whole Parental Meeting was now and forever unnecessary. Not that he cared what status they were to his father's eyes, but Shepard was the type of person who stayed true to her convictions once they've been said.

"You are slated to go groundside with the commander," EDI had said, helpfully.

"Yeah, I know. Thank you, EDI."

"There are no other members she is bringing, and she has indicated a briefing is unnecessary. This is strange, as her itinerary is quite large and may include combat. May I inquire as to the reasoning?"

"The... itinerary is large? There should only be a meeting."

"Shepard has reestablished communication with prior contacts on Novaria, and they have expressed the need for assistance on various matters. The meeting I believe you're talking about is slated to be last."

"Last?" His harmonics were practically singing with relief. "And you said there are tasks that require combat?"

"I am unsure, but the likelihood of combat occurring during the stay I calculate to being at seventy-eight percent."

"With Shepard, I'm surprised it isn't higher."

"That has already been calculated into the probability."

* * *

><p>When the <em>Normandy<em> had docked on Port Hanshan and Shepard had gone towards the airlock, she noticed that Garrus was already there, fully outfitted, and an expression on his plated face that was... a little eager, if she may be so bold.

She suppressed a smirk. _He must've been crawling the walls in the Forward Battery._ "Not taking you from your calibrations, am I?"

"Of course not, Commander. Most of the heavy work with the cannon has been finished."

"Mm," Shepard responded with calculated disinterest. As the scan worked, she remained silent. Garrus wasn't shifting around or anything, but the anxiety was wafting off him in waves. She pointedly ignored it and strode out as soon as the doors were open.

No sooner did their boots hit the ground than a figure approached. Garrus deflated noticeably.

"Jurian Vakarian," Shepard said in introduction, and offered a hand, "Glad to finally meet you in a less compromised position."

"Likewise, Commander. I had been waiting. Shall we get straight to business?"

"If you don't mind, sir, I have some other duties to attend to on Noveria as well. Some of my contacts have been working with me, and I believe I may even gather some more information on the Reapers for you."

"_Really?_ Then allow me to accompany you."

"Dad," Garrus cut in and motioned towards the senior turians civvies, "You're not exactly... outfitted."

"I'm still armed. Honestly, Garrus, what sort of cop did you think I was?"

"The kind who slept in his armor. Standing up."

Jurian scowled at his son, and Shepard had to fake a cough to hide the laugh that wanted to bubble out of her, then glanced at her omni-tool.

"We're about to run late for our first meeting." She set off, expecting the men to follow. They did. "First we'll be meeting with Administrator Qui'in as a courtesy, then we'll be seeing Liliherax to see about some artifacts the geth left behind last time he scrounged up..."

"Are all of these people going to be turian? Are you trying to make a point, Shepard?" Garrus sighed.

"...and lastly Dr. Zev Cohen, who I would say you better be damn happy isn't going to be at Peak 15, but apparently turians like cold a lot more than they care to admit."

"Har."

* * *

><p>Lorik Qui'in remained the oily sort of bastard he'd always been, but he was the sort that endeavored to be pleasant company. That didn't turn out to be the case, as soon as he saw Jurian.<p>

"Commander Shepard, I understand that sometimes you will have very unlikely people on your side, but this-" He gestured at the man. "-is a former C-Sec executor, and when it comes to dealing with sensitive matters, can be... oh, how would I put this..."

"Thorough?" Jurian offered in amusement.

"That would be a much nicer way of saying what I was thinking. Anyway, welcome to my lovely port, my dear. You will be here only a short time, I suspect?"

"I won't be around long enough to step on your toes, Lorik. Just a few errands, a Parental Meeting, and I'm out of here."

"A Parental Meeting?" He looked over her entourage again, both in turn, then spread his mandibles in a wide smile. "I suspected he was related, but I didn't think Garrus Vakarian was your _son_, Jurian. Why _do_ you never tell your old friends about your family?"

"'Old friends' is a much nicer way of saying what I was thinking," Jurian countered.

"How in the galaxy I didn't see the resemblance boggles the mind. Speaking of boggling the mind, don't you hate Spectres?"

"I have a lot of things to discuss with the commander later."

"The nicer way of putting it, I'm sure." He gave Shepard a once-over and nodded. "As it stands, my friend, welcome and be free to roam as much as you like so long as you roam as quickly as you can. You draw trouble to you like a magnet." Then he added as an afterthought. "But feel free to visit before you leave. Especially if the Meeting goes south." He stretched another grin. "I'd be very interested in the details."


	26. Father Frost

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

My god, I actually saved the game in ME1 to see if I could kill Alestia in the main room, and was so disappointed that you can't. I actually cheered when she strolled into the quarantine with some geth and commandos.

And I actually never really listened to any of Brand New (I tend to like musically complex stuff), but the lyrics for "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot" are very poignant and very matching. Thank you for recommending.

* * *

><p>Liliherax turned out to not be so exciting. Although he did come across some deactivated geth and was afraid more functional devices could be further in, it turned out it was just all scrap. They did find a Reaper artifact, however, and that alone was a good payout. Shepard kept a perimeter lockdown around it while she called in for special storage.<p>

"Good thing we caught it, anyway," Shepard said, "'Even dead gods'. We don't need more indoctrination coming from _another_ borderless port."

"Agreed," Garrus said, "The Reapers are scary enough without more resources."

"What are the chances I could have the artifact, Commander? It may prove useful to have something tangible to present to Fedorian."

"Too much of a security risk, sir; we wouldn't want you to present it and end up with an indoctrinated primarch. Besides, I speared an entire dead Reaper onto the Citadel like a trophy, and it didn't do a damn bit of good."

"Fair enough. What will you do with it, then?"

"Might let Mordin poke around it a little, then dispose of it. You're welcome to take pictures."

"I'm surprised you aren't handing it over to Cerberus."

"Not that they haven't had me on similar runs, but I'd rather avoid it given the chance."

"You don't trust your resurrectors?"

"Would you?"

"Hmm," was all that Jurian offered, and once a containing unit was brought (with Mordin, who was eager to look over the specimen before disposal), they continued to the next order of business.

Dr. Zev Cohen, meeting at the usual cafe that everyone on Noveria seemed to enjoy, was happy to see Shepard again and eager to obtain her assistance. It turned out that after they were successfully evacuated from the facility at Peak 15 two years ago, they had been rebuilding and going over inventory since (under a different name, obviously), but there was still one problem...

"We were in something of a rush to leave once the way was clear, you understand, and we're not in a rush to... go back. But we left a lot behind. You might find it strange that we're still in the same line of work after what happened, Commander, but this has been our life's work. We can't let it drop so easily."

"Let me guess. You want us to go back to Peak 15 to find any files."

"Not just any files. There is some data that we had to leave behind to increase the infection risk of the Thoros-B biotoxin. The cure works fantastically—we've been very careful to keep the results of that work with us—but even if we don't intend to work any further under Binary Helix, leaving the information there doesn't sit right with any of us."

"Where can I find the file?"

"Here, let me give you the location on your omni-tool."

As they left, Shepard looked over at Jurian. "Do you have any on hand?"

"Commander?"

"Armor. Do you have your armor on hand?"

"No, Commander. I didn't believe I would need it. Regardless, I am still coming with you."

She frowned. "Then I'll buy you a set. There are several vendors, here. I should be able to snag up something."

"I wouldn't _dare_ impose."

"_Dad_," Garrus snapped, "if you come with us, you _are_ imposing. Maybe there aren't any hostiles on the peak, but the way over is cold, and I doubt they kept the heat on in the facility."

Jurian looked at his son with this strangely annoyed air, but instead of arguing, said, "I can purchase a light armor with a heating unit myself; they have several of them for sale here. Besides, Garrus told me about the leash the Illusive Man has on your spending, Commander. I'd rather you kept your money towards your own mission."

It was quick, but Garrus could see Shepard suppress a laugh at that. "Right. Why don't you get that done while I secure a garage pass?"

* * *

><p>"Driving uphill the whole way in a Mako during a blizzard."<p>

"Just like old times?" Shepard quipped.

"Almost. Just need to have some geth shooting at us until you gain enough speed to run them over. If that were our own Mako, I'd have had to order a whole new undercarriage."

"You weren't complaining at the time."

"I'm not going to say it wasn't _funny_. Besides, it belonged to Port Hanshan, and they were hardly in a position to argue."

"What is this biotoxin that doctor wants us to retrieve files on?" Jurian interrupted.

"Thoros-B. It only affects a few species but they were working to extend it's affect to others when I was last here two years ago," Shepard said, "When their systems shut down, many of their researchers got infected, so we had to help them synthesize the cure. It was a great time."

"Why do I have a feeling you aren't being sarcastic?" the older C-Sec officer asked.

"Because," Garrus answered, "that was one of her happiest missions. Not because of the curing, but because she got to kill that molecular geneticist Saren had hired. What was her name?"

"Alestia Iallis," Shepard chirped, "I wanted to get a tattoo on my arm with the date and her name with an X through it. I was so happy she tried to ambush us."

Jurian eyed her, bewildered. "...Are you _sure_ you're not part krogan?"

"I've wondered that myself..." Garrus agreed conspiratorially.

"Are you sure turians hate the cold? We could walk the rest of the way if you like."

* * *

><p>"<em>I THOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE A SIMPLE IN-AND-OUT JOB WHY ARE THERE HUSKS EVERYWHERE ALL THE SUDDEN I DIDN'T EVEN SEE ANY DRAGON'S TEETH-"<em>

"_Welcome to Shepard's command, Dad! Where even a walk down the street requires you to shoot through a squadron!"_

"_Is this the sort of thing you've been doing with her this whole time?! Spirits provide, no wonder you went to Omega! The damn Spectre drove you insane!"_

"You comedians going to do anything other than gang up on me all day?"

"_You're the kind of person who has bloody handprints painted into her N7 stripe!"_ Jurian responded over the comm. _"I'm sure you had it coming!"_

"_Oh, yeah. I was meaning you compliment you on your new armor pattern, Commander. It suits you."_

"Compliment me when I don't have blue zombies running my ass ragged! I sorely need to upgrade the cooldown on my tactical cloak."

"_It doesn't even occur to you that you can use the cloak a little less, does it?"_ Garrus said.

Shepard jumped into cover to give her implants a second to recoup as she popped a heat sink and shoved a new one in. Several bodies started flailing towards her, so she slid over again to round to their side and take them down, then cloaked away to take a new flank.

The data had been retrieved, but in order to access it, they had to turn on auxiliary power for Mira. It turns out, however, that the lights woke up some presents Benezia had left behind two years ago, which had been left undisturbed through the evacuation and up until now.

The cloak dropped with another set of them, and she skidded to a stop to pivot around a wall, and almost overshot as there was a slight quiver in the floor. Crashes came from below, and she spied the tip of the dragon's tooth Jurian had been looking for thrusting violently from the floor.

"We have to get out of here! Now!"

They broke into a full retreat—keeping the line while dodging debris and with swarms of husks following would be pointless—and the rumble grew to shake the walls themselves. Cracks formed, the beams in the building groaned with protest, and, suddenly, the side of the building broke off.

The side they were on, of course.

The girders screamed and the blizzard wailed into their faces, blinding them with stark whiteness as everything plummeted down, down, down. The husks tried to follow, some scrambling at the edges as it fell but ultimately losing their grips and falling to their second deaths. Everything was screeching and harsh white noise until it was suddenly dark again. Silent.

It took a few moments for Shepard to realize she was still conscious and scrambled up. Part of a room had fallen over her, and luckily, it wasn't crumbling around her. She stood, brushing off the snow from her collar where it threatened to slide into her suit.

"Garrus, Jurian, do you read me?" she called into her comm.

Nothing.

"Shit." She pulled up a light from her omni-tool to look around. "Garrus, Jurian, I'm still up. Stuck in a sideways room. Report in."

She kept calling out, hearing nothing but radio silence and searching in the snow and crashed remnants of a lab. The words stopped in her throat when she saw a gloved turian hand, sticking from the snow.

In seconds, she was there, digging them out. It was Jurian, damn near frozen to the touch already, his suit wrecked and the heating unit malfunctioning. Life signs were weak. She cursed a rainbow of obscenities as she pulled him out and onto a dry surface, a former wall with the paint still proudly proclaiming what lab this used to be. "It would figure I killed my boyfriend's father right before the damn Meeting," she growled.

But he wasn't dead yet. She pulled out a survival blanket and a small heating pad from her kit, shoving it into one of the holes on his suit to help supply heat to his core. Then she pulled off much of her own armor and slid in under the blanket as quickly as possible, to lose as little of her body heat as she could manage.

So now, here she was, holding her Garrus's dad against her body to keep the old bastard from dying. "Garrus," she tried again, "I have your father with me now. He's unconscious. Please respond."

* * *

><p>Garrus had hit his head and was in a daze as he heard a voice calling in his head. Everything was cold and dark and he wondered what sort of hell he was in.<p>

"_Garrus."_

His mind latched onto the voice. It was Shepard, and she was calling for him. Details solidified at once. She was calling for him on the comm, the building had just fallen on them, and he was on Noveria to do a thrice-damned Parental Meeting by demand of his father.

"_It would figure I killed my boyfriend's father right before the damn meeting,"_ she said, as if reading his mind.

"Shepard?" he tried to call, "Shepard, what happened? What's wrong with Dad?"

It was silent."Damnit, can you not hear me?" His omni-tool wouldn't pull up, likely the whole system fried except the receiver, so he resolved to stumble blindly, hoping to find sight of them.

"_Garrus. I have your father with me now. He's unconscious. Please respond."_

"Can you hear me, Shepard?" he tried again. No response. No choice but to keep stumbling.

"_I can't come looking for you. Not without abandoning your father," _she said, _"He's not in the best state, Garrus. You turians aren't built to retain heat; you're built to radiate it. I'm doing my best to warm him, but even if he wasn't sucking the heat right out of me, he won't be up very soon. You'd better be okay, wherever you are."_

"I'm fine," he said, however uselessly. "Don't worry about me."

"_You have better armor suited for this sort of thing, and a full survival pack. You are much more likely to be in a good position than he is, and I know for a fact you're hard to kill. But I don't know. You might be under a beam, getting crushed to death and not able to push the air for a response."_

"I'm _fine_."

_"Shit_. _Do you know why I took a bunch of missions today? Why I've kept you off the battlefield the past few days and let your father join us? To show you that even if you think you rule the realms in your snipers nest, I'm the one who owns the battlefield, who decides the tides and turns the tables."_

"Wow. Okay, that kind of control is _definitely_ sexy, even if it's a little..."

"_Insane, isn't it? When we get back, don't let me do that to you again. Don't let me hurt you like that, okay?"_

"Oh, I don't know. A little pain never-"

"_I love you too much to hurt you like that any more."_

He couldn't help it; he gasped and stopped in his tracks, feeling this sweet stab like a knife lighter than air had pierced his carapace. The wound it was making was bursting and bubbling from his chest the strongest sensation of joy he'd experienced in a long time. He wanted to chant the words back, but was deathly afraid that the comm would suddenly regain functionality and that she'd hear it.

A soft, orange glow, pulsing like life finally lead him to them. Shepard had mind to let her omni-tool act as a signal, and it lit brightly from beneath the survival blanket where she and her father were sitting. She looked up from the crunch of his boots in the snow, and smiled that smile that didn't fit on her face, that he loved so well because it was his and only his to see.

"Where the hell have you been, Vakarian?"

"Got lost in the dark, in more ways than one. My whole system's fried so I couldn't respond. Any room under that blanket?"

"No. You're armor will chill us both under here. Your heating unit is still functional, so use it."

Only the top of his father's fringe was visible, but from the angle, his face seemed to have found itself on her breasts. When she shifted to sit up a little better, he grumbled and nestled it between them, tightening his hold on her. Jurian Vakarian, a real turian's turian and a staunchly conservative man, was gripping on a human Spectre like a child. Garrus couldn't help but laugh a little.

"So, your communications were down?" she asked.

"I tried to respond, but you didn't seem to be able to hear me. I could hear you, though."

"Mm..." Her face was carefully blank.

"You know." A wolfish grin spread. "My father's probably the same size as me. Maybe he could wear the armor and I could switch places with him."

"First my desk and now my heater?" Jurian probably said. It was hard to hear through the cold-induced grogginess and the breast meat. He tightened more around her and huffed, falling asleep again.

She laughed softly. "He's been going in and out. Garrus, I have some orders for you."

"Listening."

"Give me your heat packet and your blanket. We need all the help we can get. Then go find the Mako, blast the temperature up, and get as close to us as possible. I think I can coax him into walking if it isn't far. You can take my omni-tool. Think you can handle that?"

"It's not taking on three merc groups single-handedly, but I think I'll manage. I'd like some incentive, though, if you don't mind."

She signaled with a nod of her head for him to come closer. He did, pressing his lips on hers, feeling the warmth seeping from her mouth to his own. He was instantly jealous that he wouldn't get to share in more of that immediately.

"_Mako,_ Garrus!" his father's muffled voice cried.


	27. The Little Match-Seller

Disclaimer: Chapter one. Hey! I ordered a truck of lemons for you guys!

I have probably been more active this past week on here than I have since I've started. Woo!

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><p>"I am never coming to this planet, again. There's nothing good that can come from here," Jurian grumbled. He was huddled beneath the covers of a kotatsu-like table popular to Port Hanshan and seemed unwilling to leave it. The bitter aroma of the hot kava filled the rented room as he drank cup after cup of it. A pot stayed on standby to provide more when needed. "There's no accountability... as evident by Lorik Qui'in running the damn place. The kava is terrible. The equipment in these shops would hardly pass standard regulations in Citadel Space. And it's <em>cold. <em>Why did I come here, again?"

"As I recall, sir," Shepard responded, "You wanted to go somewhere you could be sure had no ears or eyes."

"Right. Next time, I'm just going to buy a shuttle and sweep it myself. Might be more expensive, but it's a hell of a lot less trouble."

Luckily, the damage Jurian had sustained was not life-threatening. After putting the medi-gel on to let it do it's work and securing him in the warmed-up Mako, Shepard called up Qui'in to let him know the facility on Peak 15 would need to be razed to the ground; it was no longer even useful as a building, now that it's structural integrity has been compromised.

They were going over different information they could provide him about the Reapers thus far. He took every file, every scrap of evidence, looked over it, and cataloged it, for his own benefit if not for Fedorian's. The man was meticulous about details, which Garrus could understand. It was what made him so good at his job, after all, for once he was glad to see it in action, if only because it wasn't going over all of is faults.

"Now that we've gotten the Reaper business out of the way." Jurian poured himself a new cup. "We should begin the Parental Meeting. As I've said, I'll be representing the Vakarian family interests, as my wife is indisposed at the moment. Shepard, since you have no blood relation available, you are of course empowered to represent your own interests with Garrus as well as your family's. So, if I may start... what _are_ your intentions with my son?"

Shepard was silent a moment, making herself maddingly unreadable before answering. "I care for your son a great deal."

"I'll speak plainly, then. Do you intend to marry him in the future?"

"I think that's something I have to wait to find out about."

"Fair enough. And you're currently on a mission, the most important one of your life, certainly, if not of the galaxy. Will you sacrifice what you have with my son for that?"

"Yes."

"Not even a second to think about it," Garrus said, half-joking.

"I'd like you to answer the same question, son."

"Which one? The marriage one or the abandonment one?"

"I already know your answer to the marriage one. Besides, you wouldn't answer it straight, anyway. You'd deflect with humor until I moved along."

Garrus's mandibles twitched. "If you want the honest answer, I'd say that I'd _have_ to sacrifice it. She would be offended if I didn't."

"That's not much of an answer."

"_Yes_, Dad. The answer is yes. I'll do whatever it takes. Now, can we move on?"

Jurian shrugged. "That's all I had to ask. Shepard, did you have any questions of me?"

"No, sir."

"Very well, then lets begin with the negotiation. I have a demand on behalf of our family-"

Hands slammed down onto the table. It shook enough to have the kava slosh in the cup and spill over the lip, now forming a ring where the cup sat. Garrus felt livid. "You didn't even... Shepard saved your life with her own _body heat_ out there and you have _demands? _The thought of dropping them didn't even cross your mind!"

"Commander, I would reserve the right to pull my son out of your service when I deem it necessary. It's a common condition when one of the parties involved is the other's commanding officer. Do you agree to this condition?"

"Damnit, Dad, you can't just-"

"I agree."

Garrus looked at her as if she had shot him. "Shepard..."

"But I have a condition, too."

Jurian nodded. "Of course. It's your right, after all."

"Garrus will not be blocked from correspondence with me if you do take him. In fact, limitation from buoys aside, I want you to make _sure_ he gets any communication from me that I send, and if it's marked private that it _stays_ that way. Fair?"

"More than fair. You have a deal, Commander."

"My opinion doesn't matter, does it?" Garrus hissed.

"Garrus, in the scheme of everything going on, it really doesn't." Jurian sighed. "I'm not making this demand simply to hurt you."

"Yes, you're doing it for my own good, I'm sure."

"No, I'm..." Jurian shook his head. "Commander, I'll send you a message later, but for now, would you go on ahead and let me speak with my son privately for a moment?"

"Sure." She stood, but before she left, laid a hand on Garrus's shoulder. "You want to talk when you get back to the Normandy?"

Garrus breathed. "I don't know."

She smirked and leaned in. "Well," she said lowly, "we _could_ just skip to the make-up sex."

"Now _that _is a_ fantastic _idea." He trilled. Her smirk stayed and she left, her hand sliding from him reluctantly as she went, and Garrus couldn't take his eyes off her as she went.

Jurian coughed to get his attention. "Garrus, I want you to know why I asked for that condition. From what I've already succeeded with in speaking with Fedorian, you will need to take the reigns eventually for the task-force, whether he believes us or not about the threat. You will need to run it."

"I don't have the rank to run such a thing," Garrus reminded him, "Hell, do I even have a rank in the Hierarchy at this point?"

"Yes, and it's not high, but for this post, your rank would be raised."

"What? You don't just raise into rank like-"

"Garrus, Fedorian would be placing you in Rank Thirty-Seven."

That shut Garrus down quick. Rank Thirty-Seven was the lowest of the truly commanding ranks, however rarely considered to have anything in common with the thirty-six above it, the one rife with the most trouble. It was made specifically to place a very unique scenario: a potential leader warning of an unlikely or improbable enemy. The turian forces were large enough that resource allocating to any potential problems made more sense than to leave it alone just because you don't believe it, but they were not in the business of dropping everything into stupid attempts at power plays, either. So, that potential leader would be given token command and told to monitor the situation.

This solved two problems: the first, and most common, it got rid of rank seekers who troll through the army with a warped sense of ambition. These men will never, ever get above Rank Thirty-Seven, will never succeed, and they were safely out of the way for more competent people, having the way cleared for them.

Then there was the second, much rarer problem: if the improbable enemy turns out to be a real threat, they have an adviser already set up at the vanguard of the situation. In these special cases, the adviser would skyrocket to as high as necessary to obtain the proper resources for quelling the threat, and the bigger the threat, the higher they were thrown.

Most of the youngest generals in turian history had been in Rank Thirty-Seven, first.

Garrus seemed to fall in his own seat at the implications. "I... am not sure if I'm prepared to outrank a general."

"You're going to have to be."

* * *

><p>The sound of the Loft door opening woke Shepard, and she realized then she had dozed off on the couch. She pulled up her omni-tool by habit to see how much time had passed and blinked at the orange light she shoved into her bleary eyes.<p>

"Hmm, tired?"

"Just taking a nap. Your talk with your father go well?"

"As well as it could, I suppose. I'm still a little mad at him. I'm not sure if he's treating me like a child or not. Hell, I have a feeling he doesn't know, either."

She nodded, then arched up into a stretch.

"We could skip making up for the morning if you're tired."

"Mm, no. I was actually thinking a nice, hot shower would do wonders right now. Wouldn't you agree?"

His brows lifted, intrigued. "That sounds... promising."

"I figured I should make up for warming up a different turian, earlier."

"... Maybe we don't mention that part while we shower? It was definitely funny, but I really don't want to be washing your breasts and have the image of my father's face stuck in my head while I do it."

She stood up, laughing softly. "My breasts? I thought you'd be washing my back."

He leaned in and purred. "That, too. I'll _always_ have your back, Shepard."

She smirked at him and lead the way into the shower, but when she went about removing her clothes, Garrus nudged her hands away and did the work for her, slowly peeling off the the layers while they went. At least he let her return the favor, taking his armor off piece by piece.

As soon as the water was on, he set to work in getting the soap and fondling her. She laughed and moaned softly as he rubbed and plucked wherever he pleased and she did the same. Though he wasn't the one exposed severely to Noveria's cold, the warmth from the water and her body seeped very readily into him, letting his plates relax and spread in many very nice ways. He licked the water off her neck and remembered the incident in the bathtub. The one that started this whole... relationship.

Her nipples were hard beneath the palms of his hands. He scraped over them lightly, then knelt a head down to tease one into his mouth. She made a noise of deep relaxation and arched for his benefit, so he traveled his tongue over to the other one to repeat the action. A leg came up to hook around his and pull in.

"Always so impatient," he chided.

"You're damn right I am." She pulled his head up and startled nibbling that one spot on his neck that drove him wild. He couldn't stop from thrumming at the sensation, gripping at her arms. Turns out, he should've gripped her wrists, because a finger was lightly running along the underside of his emerging cock, teasing the bumps and head mercilessly with pressure just slightly heavier than the water running down them.

And then she's grabbed him, stroking him, coaxing him out, and biting down on that spot she was nibbling on and sucking on the sensitive flesh of his neck. He groaned loudly and slid a finger against her folds to do to her what she was doing to him. She pressed against him, her hardened nipples rubbing against his carapace in a way he knew pleased her.

Garrus started to pull himself downwards, intending to tease his way to her pussy and taste her, but she had other ideas. As soon as he was stooped enough, she came forward and wrapped herself around him, and suddenly he was inside her. His groan was choked and he gripped her hips. "Shepard."

"I really need your cock inside me," she growled, "I love your tongue, but right now, I just want you in me."

He nodded and allowed her to grip around him before thrusting up into her. Her hips worked as well, lifting and falling to meet him. Despite her eagerness, the rhythm she was setting was slow. Her nails were scratching lines between his plates and she gasped and breathed in his ear when she wasn't teasing his mandibles. Something about the way she gripped him, the way she pressed against him, felt like she had something important to say. So he pulled back as much as he dared to look her in the eyes.

They were hazed with lust, but, also, strangely full of emotion. He wanted to ask why, but didn't know how to word it.

He didn't need to ask, because she said all on her own. "I love you."

Because the phrase was still so very fresh, he sucked in a sharp breath, because his chest told him it needed the oxygen. She breathed a laugh and simpered at him.

"Your cock twitched when I said that."

"Shepard..."

She leaned forward and moved her hips over him again, putting her lips right next to his ear. "I love you."

Garrus groaned and gripped her waist.

"I love you," she repeated, and she was moving just a notch faster. "I love you. I love you."

He rose with her still on him and slammed her against the tiled wall. His strokes were hard and deep, and with the rising pitch of her voice still chanting those words, he was building speed.

She kept repeating it, and he broke into a loud keen. His clipped claws were scrabbling at the slippery tiles to find purchase as he did his best to fuck her into the wall.

"Oh, _fuck!_" she screamed, "Damn, that affects you more than the poem." Every other word was peppered with moans, and was definitely having a hard time concentrating on what she was saying. "What if I combined the two, huh?_ 'Although your body is aflame with heat and mine own washes over me like'_—mmph."

Garrus grabbed either side of her face and forced his tongue into her mouth, kissing her with all his worth as he rammed into her, because his heart couldn't take any more. He wanted to tell her he loved her, over and over again, with every thrust as she did him. He wanted to take her and bond her to him forever. And he knew he couldn't do either, not yet. Not when he is still so afraid that saying these things out loud would bring everything to reality.

Because this couldn't be reality. This is a damn fairy tale, and he was making love with a legend.


	28. Long, Broad, and Sharpsight

Disclaimer: Chapter one.

I will need to do at least one more chapter of GC after this before doing any more FL. Whelp, better get to work!

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><p>"<em>Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh-<em>" A long, piercing scream wrenched out of Shepard. Her whole body was tensed into a solid state, like a shivering statue, and her hands wrung and wrapped so much into her sheets that they might as well be cuffs that she was straining against. After an eternity, she collapsed, and her body remembered to gasp for air.

He looked up at her, a cocksure grin on his pussy-soaked face. "Enjoying yourself, Commander?"

"Make that verb into past tense, soldier. That's an order. No one is going to question your sexual prowess just because you brought your woman to an orgasm less than twenty times in a night."

Garrus's own steam had run out a while ago, because Mordin was right about human stamina, but he wasn't going to take that lying down, so to speak. He had set to work on making sure he wore her out as completely as possible. It was the least he could do.

"Don't tell me you've gotten tired of me already," he joked.

Shepard weakly brought a hand before her face. "I think my eyes are broken."

"So, the Great Commander Shepard can simply be pleasured into defeat? The Reapers are definitely looking into the wrong kind of tech, then."

"Jesus, what's going to happen if I ask you to marry me? Is that why turian honeymoons last so long? Because the women get tongue-fucked into comas?"

"You may have a point. We'll need to get you some more toys. For variety."

"I'm not going anywhere near a sex-shop with you until I'm positive you won't start a firefight in the place just to get us some privacy with the merchandise."

Garrus slid up beside her and pulled the covers around them. "Only if it's a _classy_ sex-shop."

She huffed and cuddled up to him. "Then we are not going to Illium for a while."

"Mm. Speaking of destinations, where are we set to go?"

"Ah... Well, I have a dossier for probably our last new crew-member, and Samara thinks she's tracked down her daughter. So..."

"So?"

"Next stop: Omega."

Garrus blinked a couple times. "I'm coming, right?"

"Well..."

"Shepard!"

"Samara only needs one person for her mission! And I'm pretty sure this Zaeed character will just be a pick-up."

"Zaeed Massani? Then I'm _definitely_ coming."

"Garrus..." She sighed. "Okay. You're coming. I swear, Vakarian, I give you an inch..."

"I fought for every inch of that mile, as you recall. Or do you need another demonstration?"

"Can't hear you. Already asleep."

* * *

><p><em>Subject: Follow Up<em>

_Commander,_

_I apologize that I had to end our discussion so early; I had to attend to my son, and he was—understandably—very upset with me concerning my demand. I believe he knows now why I asked what I did, but that's not what I need to talk about with you, now._

_I want to explain myself. No doubt you know that I'm a conservative man, and I'm sure Garrus has told you that I do not have a history of getting along with Spectres. I honestly don't see that changing anytime in the near future, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let this color my judgment. As I understand, among humans, conservatism is still filled with racism, which isn't so surprising since your race only just entered the _galactica publica_._

_I'm not going to say I've always had the best impressions of humans (the first I had to work with, after all, was Harkin, and he's hardly an exemplary representation of _anything_), but I've always felt that racism is a willful handicap for the racist, a handicap I could ill-afford as an Investigator._

_I say this because I want you to understand that what I'm about to say is not out of ignorant hate._

_I have cursed your name, Commander. Two years ago, you had stolen my son away from his position to get killed by what I thought to be some pointless delusion. From my perspective, you had dragged him into a war that, as far as I could tell, was only between you and a senior Spectre, one whose corruption was merely more complete than your own._

_No one in my clan was allowed to mention your name in my presence. When you died, I disallowed everyone from attending your funeral or mourning you in any way. Garrus disobeyed my orders, assuming he even heard them; he had already long since stopped talking to me by that point. This, of course, only made me curse you all the more. You had corrupted my son, who was now well on his way __to becoming a Spectre himself by your influence._

_Then, he disappeared. He talked to my daughter every once in a while, but was otherwise carefully off the radar._

_Since coming into contact with him again, I've had to come to understand a lot of things. I'm not unaware of my son's talents; he is patient, opportunistic, has a commendable sense of honor and duty, all fantastic qualities in a turian. But this didn't fit into C-Sec. He complained time and again about the rules, the red-tape, and I'd hear constantly from Pallin how much trouble Garrus caused him, and how he wished he wasn't so competent so he could just get rid of him._

_That always confused me. I knew he could follow orders; his commanders in the military were constantly heaping praises on him, and were the ones that pushed forward the recommendation for him to become a Spectre without my knowledge. I kept wondering... just _why_ he couldn't settle in C-Sec if he did so well on a damn _warship_._

_My outing with you on Noveria has made me admit something I've been denying: Garrus is not meant for civilian life, even in the form of work at C-Sec. This, you must understand, has been my worst nightmare. We turians are proud of our martial prowess, sure, but most of us don't become lifers in the military; it would keep us from our homes and clans that we worked so hard to build and protect. Garrus is, I admit now, not meant for settling; he's a natural tactician and soldier, he's meant for the battlefield._

_I am very likely going to lose my son to this upcoming war, Commander. I want to be proud of what he's going to become, what he's already become, but it's hard to when I know that everything about him is outside of my reach and ability to help. I can't lead or mentor him, anymore, but you can. He not only cares for you, but he looks up to you, learns from you. He needs you, and soon the Hierarchy will need him._

_If it comes about that we all survive this, we need to talk about binding clans and family building. A whole different meeting, a lot more clinical. I suggest doing some research beforehand on your options. That's, of course, assuming I can get you two to finally settle down after the fact._

_Regards,_

_Jurian Vakarian_

"His father has gone from hating me to expecting me to give him grandchildren," Shepard said out loud to the empty loft, then started laughing. They had already docked according to EDI, but she had to make sure Garrus had vacated the premises and gave her time to read this message, so she had sent him to get his equipment ready and had him read the briefs for the mission.

He was apparently too quick, because she scarcely finished when Joker chimed in. _"Hey, Commander, when are you coming to the airlock? Garrus is pawing at the door like a dog who wants out of his kennel."_

She gave a scoff at Joker's simile. "If we're already at port, he doesn't need to wait for me. He knows Omega well enough to roam around on his own."

"_Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to leave without you. He seems like the overprotective type."_

"I'm not the one he needs to be worried about. In fact, if I recall correctly, I wasn't the one who was missing part of their skull the last time we left the place."

"_Hey, that aside, you _do_ get shot at a lot more than most people. And you know a guard dog can't help being a guard dog."_

"Does Garrus hear you calling him a dog down there?"

"_What? Nooo. And even if he could hear me, I don't think he knows what a dog is."_ After a short pause, Joker added, _"Okay, so I was wrong on both accounts. Could you please get here quickly? I'm very fragile, you know."_

"Let him know I'm coming down now."

Jokes aside, Garrus did look eager. Samara, on the other hand, was as reserved as usual, if not hesitant. At least, Shepard supposed she looked hesitant; not that Samara was particularly difficult to read, but she wasn't very emotional as a person, and even so, the mission was likely... complicated for her.

Picking up Massani was the first order of business, and, unlike most of their missions, was a quick one. He was the sort of old, gruff veteran she actually rather missed having around and was glad to bring aboard. In fact, she would have loved to bring him along to a mission immediately, but that would have to wait.

Second was Morinth. Garrus stayed mostly out of sight while Shepard spoke with Aria, and she went to gather him from where he hid afterwards. "We'll be going to the tenements, now. Apparently, the Ardat-Yakshi's latest victim lived there. You know much about the area?"

"Sure. A lot of the people I helped out came from there. I'd be glad to help you investigate, if you like."

She smiled. "Trying to prove you can be useful?"

"I thought we already discussed what I can prove last night," he purred. She groaned and slapped his arm.

Garrus recognized Diana, the mother of the victim, and was easily able to speak with her and gain permission to look through her daughter's belongings for clues. And he definitely didn't come up empty-handed. "The VIP lounge in Afterlife seems to be her preferred hunting ground. We go there, we may just find her."

"Storming her den would be a mistake. Morinth is very cagey; she will have a hundred escape routes planned," Samara cut in, "Then, she will go to ground and disappear for fifty years or more. This is the closest I've ever been."

"Then what do you suggest?" Garrus said.

"Shepard must go to the VIP lounge alone and unarmed. She can draw Morinth out. She'll certainly flee if she catches sight of me, but she won't be able to resist her. She is an artist on the battlefield and has the vital spark that attracts Morinth. The power will draw her in."

"Wait, hold on. You want her to walk into this place with no gun and no backup?"

Shepard sighed. _Should have left him back on the ship after all._

"I will be in the shadows watching. Shepard will never be alone—this I swear. But she cannot barge in with guns and allies."

"We're wasting time," Shepard broke in. "Let's get over there."

As they left, she tried to dismiss Garrus, but he was adamant about not leaving her side, and it was clear he was trying to think of an undercover approach to allow him to enter the lounge as well. She needed to think of something to distract him. _I don't suppose suggesting he go browsing through one of Omega's toy shops would work..._

"Holy... Garrus! Boss, is that you?"

They whipped around.

A human, in armor that looked to once belong to one of Omega's menagerie of gangs but had been painted over, approached them from another part of the tenements. A broad, white smile had split his scarred-up face in two. Between those burn-marks, the armor, and the fact that his shaved hair was still growing back, they almost didn't recognize him.

"Monty!" Garrus laughed and clapped a hand on the man's shoulder. "Monty, by the Spirits, it _is_ you!"

Montague wasn't having none of this arm's length crap, and he pulled Garrus in for a brutish hug, slapping the turian's back for good measure. "Goddamn, I thought you had died. Everyone said you did."

"Me? Butler said you were near the center of the blast radius that took out the Blood Pack. He figured he couldn't find your body because it'd been _annihilated_."

"No, but the concussive force of it did blow me into a whole different level of the station. I was out of it for a while after that, but some guys from one of the other, smaller merc groups found me and patched me up."

"I'd say that was nice of them if I didn't know that operation."

"Oh, yeah. 'We did you a favor,' this, 'do you know how close you were to dead', that, 'I'd say doing some work for us is worth your life, right?' the other. I was barely on my feet when they were forcing me to do jobs. Luckily, I was able to re-access some of your assets you, ah, abandoned, and was able to get out. They're a little sore with me, but they've stopped chasing me when I threw some creds at them."

Garrus laughed and shook his head. "Well, I'm glad to hear you made it out of there. Everyone else will be ecstatic to see you're alive and okay."

"Should've known there would be others. Heard about Shepard roaming around down here and had to see for myself, but I didn't expect this." He looked over at her and grinned, a little sheepishly. "And, uh, hi, Commander."

She smirked wryly at him. Fucking saved by serendipity. "Garrus, why don't you take Montague to the _Normandy_ to see the others? Have yourself a happy reunion, for once. I'm sure Kasumi wouldn't mind if you appropriated the bar she set up to help catch up."

He turned to her, looking torn.

"You can't come, anyway. Go on."

"Wait, just how many dead people are actually alive?" Monty cut in. "Is Shepard just some sort of mortal singularity? What the hell?"


End file.
